Child's Play
by JabberjayHeart
Summary: "We're all trying to get home, one way or another, and none of it is right. Our intentions are right, our actions are wrong." Welcome to the 52nd Hunger Games!
1. Funhouse Part One

_I dance around this empty house,_  
_Tear us down,_  
_Throw you out,_  
_Screaming down the halls,_  
_Spinning all around and now we fall._

_Pictures framing up the past,_  
_Your taunting smirk behind the glass,_  
_This museum full of ash,_  
_Once a tickle,_  
_Now a rash._

_This used to be a funhouse,_  
_But now it's full of evil clowns,_  
_It's time to start the countdown,_  
_I'm gonna burn it down down down,_  
_I'm gonna burn it down._

* * *

**Child's Play - 52nd Hunger Games.**

**Head Gamemaker Jeremiah Nickel.**

* * *

When I hear the faint hum of the engine, I know we're coming to stop. I can hear my heart hammering against my chest, begging to be released. But this isn't the time to back out. It's far too late for that. I look over at the man that terrifies me more than anything else in the whole of Panem. President Snow. My life hangs in the air like a puppet on a string, the President waiting with the scissors that could seal my fate for good.

"We've arrived." a woman says calmly, clipboard in hand.

President Snow nods, keeping his face exactly the same as it has been the entire journey. Neutral. By now, I can the thudding in my ears, ringing out. No doubt he can hear it, which worries me even more.

The door to the hovercraft opens, bright light pouring in, streams of it highlighting the pristine colour of the President's silver-coloured suit, a fragile white rose sitting neatly in his breast pocket. I stand, wait for a moment for the President to arise, then make my way out the vehicle.

I take in the familiar sight, smiling as I realise he will get to see the arena first hand. I just hope he likes it, otherwise, snap. Strings cut.

"Is this it?"

His voice stays strong and calm. No hints of hatred or love, but either way, neutral is much better than the former.

"Not all of it, sir," I nod hastily, moving over and letting the man take the full sight inwards. We're landed on the roof of the arena. Straightaway, I can see the glimmer of a smile on his face, realising that it is indeed held inside a building. They've always been his favourites, mainly because they are Gamemakers' playgrounds. Full of deadly traps. "You see, this is the roof. The tributes won't ever get up here. But it's important for us to get in."

An attendant leads up across the rooftop, through a door and suddenly, after a winding of narrow hallways, we end up in the centre of my creation.

"This is where the Cornucopia and bloodbath will be held."

The huge room itself is sadistic. Pastel coloured walls, concrete flooring and more importantly, haunting decorations. It's all so child-like. It's perfect. 24 platforms sit, waiting for their plate to come home, the golden Cornucopia lies in the middle, hollow, waiting to be filled. The room is so large, even whispers echo. Imagine the sounds of screaming children.

"Then what?"

"You see, once the gong and bloodbath commence, tributes can run at their own will. The door on each wall leads to a new part of the arena, everything either being a room or a hallway, varying in size. This, of course, is where the fun will really start. Rooms that spin, floors that open up and drop them, walls that close in and squash them, weapons and traps that can be triggered and rip our tribute to shreads such as knives bursting through walls, machetes dropping from the ceiling and spikes jumping from the ground."

I pause, slightly out of breath. I needed to get that all out. That way, he can fully understand my creation and it's many wonders. As he observes the room, I smile at the thought of him enjoying it. Every year that has been a Gamemakers' playground, he has absolutely loved it. Back during the 33rd when it was a "carnival", he went giddy with the anticipation and called it the best year to come. This is sure to please him, or at least, is worthy.

"A Gamemakers' paradise."

"Indeed, sir," I smile. Yes, he loves it. "But of course, it's going to be deadly. The tributes will not expect it and more importantly, it can all be accomplished through the touch of a button. There's no light, no nature and no survival aids. Everything is confined within the building and it's wonders. They won't have a choice but to explore and react as fast as possible."

His smile widens, the faint smell of blood and perfume waver through the air.

"It is truly amazing. And what do you call this arena of yours?"

I pause again, delighted. I passed.

"A dollhouse, your President. And the tributes will be our toys."

* * *

**I have all the tributes collected now.**

******_childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_** - this is the blog to check the characters and such out, for information and everything. Remember, no votes, no more tribute and hello cannon. You get the picture and welcome to Child's Play


	2. Funhouse Part Two

_I dance around this empty house,_  
_Tear us down,_  
_Throw you out,_  
_Screaming down the halls,_  
_Spinning all around and now we fall._

_Pictures framing up the past,_  
_Your taunting smirk behind the glass,_  
_This museum full of ash,_  
_Once a tickle,_  
_Now a rash._

_This used to be a funhouse,_  
_But now it's full of evil clowns,_  
_It's time to start the countdown,_  
_I'm gonna burn it down down down,_  
_I'm gonna burn it down._

* * *

**List Of Tributes.**

**District One - Luxury.**

Male: Logan Voss, 17 (_Forgotten Tactic_)

Female: Beauty D'Avanzo, 17 (_BeckyAmity19_)

**District Two - Masonry.**

Male: Hollis Brood, 16 (_danceontherooftops_)

Female: Andromeda Lynx, 15 (_BeccaJoy_)

**District Three - Technology.**

Male: Surge Dalton, 15 (_Saberott_)

Female: Aimee Wyre, 13 (_Miss-Invisible-Heartbreak_)

**District Four - Fishing.**

Male: Caspian Coburn, 17 (_Moonlight Resonance_)

Female: Misty Liu, 16 (_Dommmm_)

**District Five - Power.**

Male: Bena Madrigal, 14 (_blu . balloon_)

Female: Modessa Lilian, 15 (_RuexxRoses_)

**District Six - Transportation.**

Male: Bridge Campbell, 16 (_Aeroja_)

Female: Elle Cludiant, 17 (_cobaltx90_)

**District Seven - Lumber.**

Male: Corvus Shade, 17 (_kitkat1425_)

Female: Cypress Nelson, 18 (_xx-Rue-xx_)

**District Eight - Textiles.**

Male: Ty Herring, 14 (_MeredithEve_)

Female: Rowen Knight, 16 (_blackhearts33_)

**District Nine - Grain.**

Male: Isaac Eibrab, 18 (_LegendOfZeldaFreak_)

Female: Komara Grey, 16 (_RamblingTurtle_)

**District Ten - Lifestock.**

Male: Rudy Millwater, 13 (_CorsomeeCorey_)

Female: Tanna Hines, 12 (_Dark Sunshine Angel_)

**District Eleven - Agriculture.**

Male: Basil Larkspur, 18 (_krigoo_)

Female: Maybelle Kailan, 12 (_d11olive-24_)

**District Twelve - Coal.**

Male: Ravi Coal, 15 (_EmmaRizcool_)

Female: Ember Auger, 14 (_June Bell_)

* * *

**Funhouse by Pink.**

**Now that the list is complete, First Impressions voting can begin! Once all votes are in, the reapings will be posted.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place.**

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**No vote can be for your tribute. **

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

* * *

**If you don't like reviewing, let me know now because I promise you, I won't be bothering with your tribute. I'm not begging for reviews, it's just common courtesy seeing as I'm taking _your_ character and making them something, you know? It's just plain rude.**

**FIRST CHAPTER WILL BE UP ONCE I HAVE THE VOTING IN.**


	3. Help, I'm Alive

_I tremble,  
They're going to eat me alive.  
If I stumble,  
They're going to eat me alive._

_Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?_  
_Beating like a hammer?_  
_Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer,_  
_Hard to be soft,_  
_Tough to be tender._

_Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train,_  
_Help, I'm alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer._  
_Beating like a hammer._

* * *

**Jubilee Charm - District One Mentor.**

I pat down my flowery dress as I take a seat next to Topaz, smiling at the waiting crowd. They look ready, prepared and as I look at them, I can only remember when I was down there, waiting to run forward. I know the excitement, the rush of being a volunteer! It's exciting stuff.

"Are you not excited, Topaz?"

Topaz looks at me, smiles falsely before turning back. "I hate this more than anything."

"I don't see why, you seemed to enjoy it during my year."

"Only because I had such a wonderful, extraordinary girl for my tribute," Topaz responds mockingly. "Now look at you, ego the size of the world."

"I wouldn't say that..."

Why does Topaz has to be so mean about everything. She never has anything good to say about anyone when it comes to the Games. Year after year, I've heard every other Victor complain that Topaz does nothing but bring them down with her bitterness towards being chosen, after then willingly. Sure, it was the first Quarter Quell and no-one knew what was going to happen, but really, Topaz should learn to let go of the past quickly.

I watch as the escort, my good friend Clementine, walks onto the stage and towards her microphone.

"Welcome to the 52nd annual Hunger Games!" Clementine shrills.

The audience laps it up. They love it, they love Clem. She's good at what she does. She speaks a bit more, before pointing at the large screen in the corner, the Treaty of Treason and President Snow's speech kicking off. I've always found it boring, but then again, I'm young, of course I would.

I take my time to scan the crowd of hopefuls, my eyes catching one in particular. Reasonably tall and well-built, 17 years old, blonde shaggy hair and eyes that could make the weak hearted faint. I'm so mesmerized, so enchanted, that I don't even realise that Clementine has finished her job and has her hand sliding around the glass bowl full of slips. I embrace the impact, watching as the ropes fall off and kids run towards us. I notice Topaz flinch from the corner of my eye, but ignore her.

The boy has run forward.

Clementine is grabbing his hand, along with a girl. He's being chosen.

"What's your names, sweethearts?"

"Beauty D'Avanzo, your newest Victor." Beauty smiles, flipping her hair and fluttering her eyelashes, reminding myself of me in that position two years ago.

She passes the microphone to the boy, who finally catches my eyes and when I look into them, I'm confused. He doesn't seem to understand what entirely went on, almost as if, he regrets it now.

"Logan Voss."

I don't even realising Topaz until she coughs. "You have him, I'll take her."

That's fine by me. Honestly.

* * *

**Marcia Crossheart - District Two Mentor.**

"Have you got a problem, Brutus?"

I watch as Brutus glares straight forward, staring down the escort at the microphone, talking.

"Why would you assume that, Marcia? Maybe I just have a lot going on inside my head."

I laugh. "I hardly doubt that. You actually need something up there besides a skull, Brutus, a brain might help you, if you could find one."

Brutus' head snaps towards me, anger bubbling in his eyes. It's amusing. Clearly, he hasn't learned from the rumours that Marcia Crossheart does not get crossed. You do not attempt to intimidate her, because like an animal, she doesn't have fear.

"That was uncalled for."

I snort, looking back at the ridiculous escort, Parlor. "Nothing in this world is uncalled for, my dear Brutus. Now stop talking, I'm expecting someone."

I watch from the corner of my eye as Brutus' eyebrows knit together, slightly confused by everything. He doesn't understand. None of them do. You'd think that after a while, they'd be able to put the puzzle pieces together. I don't mentor. One year, I was forced and after all the chaos I caused, they didn't want me back. But I insisted this year. I practically begged them to let me mentor this year.

Because I know he'll volunteer and I need to be here, to help, to make sure he wins.

Parlor doesn't get a chance to even pick a slip, when I notice the familiar hand shoot up in the air, tanned fingers wiggling. He steps out of the crowd, face cold and distant. That's why I've always liked Hollis compared to the other brats in the Training Centre.

"Your name?"

"Hollis Brood."

He stands to the side, refusing to smile. He meets my eye and nods, carefully and quietly, but I know it's there but Brutus doesn't. No-one has realised this is all planned. No-one is smart enough. When Parlor walks over to the girls bowl, she, once again, doesn't get a chance.

"I volunteer!"

My eyes scan the area, looking for the girl. Has to be a trainee. Instead, a girl wearing normal, tattered clothing passes an extremely young girl, full of tears, to a boy, who also looks on the edge. Siblings, perhaps. She walks up to the stage, calm, cool and collected, keeping her head held high. She stands next to Hollis, and then, I catch it. Close, but enough to see his eyes fall on the girl, a softness coming to them that I haven't seen in years from Hollis. He's always been cold, but now, it doesn't seem so much.

"Name?" Parlor drawls.

"Andromeda Lynx."

* * *

**Walden Soro - District Three Mentor.**

The crowd within Three don't respond to the escort at all. We're well known for that. Compared to other districts, who tend to just humour their escort, we don't. People think it's because we spend too much time in our factories, cooped up like chickens.

Beetee takes his seat next to me, adjusting his glasses as he forces a short but small smile at me. Always been a strange child.

Compared to most tributes I've mentored, I knew Beetee personally. He was a nice kid, sometimes trapped in his own world, but pretty much normal. Extremely smart. Could make something out of anything and really, it did remind me of myself. When he got reaped, I insisted Beatrice that I take him.

He needed to come home, after all.

I used to always take the child on that I thought seemed to fit our stereotype. I could work better with them compared to someone who isn't. That's why Beatrice ended up with the other gender. But now, Beetee being like me and Beatrice wanting to give up mentoring, it looks as if I won't get that luxury.

Being so wrapped up in my own mind, I don't even hear properly until I see the escort, Fervis, pulling the slip to her eyesight, squinting.

"Our female tribute this year is... Aimee Wyre!"

A shriek bellows throughout the Square, kids moving to the side as the girl looks exposed. She stands there, long black hair to her shoulders, so timid and scared, shaking violently. A girl behind her pushes her. She stumbles, almost falls to the floor before staggering carefully to the stage, biting harshly on her fingernail. Fervis, however, doesn't take much time before she gets bored, walking to the boys bowl and grabbing the first slip she sees.

I can pretty much see the scowl forming on her face.

"And our male tribute is... Surge Dalton!"

Once again, almost robotically, the crowd part to reveal the boy. The first thing I notice about him is that his eyes are his biggest feature. Blue, icy and wide. He freezes, similar to Aimee, but manages to suck it up enough before walking forward. I can see in his eyes the same fear I saw in Beetee when he got reaped.

And once again, I find myself wondering what this boy is like.

He stands on the stage, next to Aimee, not meeting her eye but instead, staring out in the crowd.

I know that look. The same look Beetee gave, heck, the same look I gave on the day of my reaping. I can practically hear the gears churning in his mind. He's working out a way to return. He's already determined to come home.

* * *

**Lagoon Strong - District Four Mentor.**

I look over at Coral, who seems focused on the floor in front of her, golden locks crossing her porcelain face. I take her hand, smiling.

"It's okay, Coral, everything is going to be okay, I promise," I reassure her, despite not knowing myself. "You can do it."

I watch as she bites down hard on her lip, almost ready to take it off. Small, minor blood begins to pool, a droplet falling towards the floor. She looks up, puts on her best face and wipes away the tears with her eyelashes.

"I'm ready. And you're here for me, aren't you, Lagoon?"

"Always. When am I not?"

"When I was in the arena..."

"No, but I was on the outside, helping you with everything I could do."

She squeezes my hand tightly. "I know and I'm thankful for it."

I don't say anything after that, instead, I smile and lead her out onto the stage, letting the bright sun and glistening sea to take into view. Out on the square is the teenagers, some looking bored whilst others look petrified. We might be a Career district, but that doesn't mean we always get volunteers. On rare occasions do we get two volunteers. Usually, it's a volunteer and a reaped. I volunteered, Coral was reaped. I was trained, she wasn't.

It's the reaped you really have to try and help.

I watch as the escort, Yaleria, crosses the stage to the first bowl. She dips her hand in, pulling forth a slip.

"Hanz Stiles!"

Instantly, eyes fall on a scrawny looking boy in the crowd, black hair contrasting with his unusual pale skin. He makes one step forward, when someone brushes past him. The boy raises his hand and grins wildly, his hair messed up and large, tanned skin but beautiful smile. He moves forward, smiling to himself as he mounts the stage.

Yaleria loves him instantly, wrapping her hand around his shoulder. "And what is your name?"

"Caspian Coburn."

He grins a bit more, getting a few whistles and cheers from the audience and fellow teenagers. As the escort goes to the girls bowl, I see Caspian tugging his lip through his teeth, biting down. One minute excited, next minute shy and the heat on his face now shows it.

"And our female tribute this year is..."

"I volunteer!"

I'm taken by surprise. My eyes catch the young, Asian girl running forward, black hair swishing. She's on the stage within seconds, looking peaceful and calm, taking slow breaths. Two volunteers this year.

"Your name?"

"Misty Liu."

I look at Coral, who looks at both of them before looking back at me. At least she has it slightly easy this year.

* * *

**Aster Goodwin - District Five Mentor.**

"Is this hard, Aster?"

I look at Cable, noticing the unusual concern on his face. Usually such a bright, happy-go-lucky boy but now, his first year as mentoring, he looks terrified beyond belief.

"Mentoring isn't hard at all. Don't worry, Cable, you can get used to it easily."

"I hope I don't have too..." Cable takes a second to scan the crowd before looking back. "I hope we get a winner so that I don't have to do this anymore."

"That's not the right attitude, Cable, I didn't think that when mentoring you."

"No, but I'm sure at some point, it crossed your mind."

I don't bother to argue with Cable anymore, turning back and watching as the escort picks up the first name for the girls. Cable has always been extremely argumentative. Never in his life has he not argued with me over something so trivial. It's in his blood to bite back when someone says something against him or his cause.

"Our female tribute this year is... Modessa Lilian!"

I follow the gasps, seeing a group of girls suddenly separate, leaving a small, blonde hair girl out in the open. Her eyes go wide, like an animal trapped in headlights, and she moves forward. At first, you'd think she's about 12, what with how incredibly thin she looks. But I notice the number saying 15. She sucks in her stomach, biting her lip as she mounts the stage, terrified, blonde curls hiding her face. It doesn't take long for the escort to scoop a name for the boy, either.

"And our male tribute is..."

I can see everyone holding their breath. No-one is ready for this. It could literally be anyone.

"Bena Madrigal."

I know that name. Living in Five for so long, you pick up on family names and who they belong too. The kid, reasonably young, picks himself from the group and walks to the stage shakily, desperate to hide the fact that he might be scared.

"I know who his father is," Cable whispers. I turn to him, noticing the puzzled look on his face. "Peacekeeper Ruly's son."

"The Peacekeeper's son?"

Cable nods.

I look back at Modessa and Bena, noticing Bena looking almost stunned and Modessa looking scared. It's only when I notice that everyone's eyes are locked on them, do I realise that neither like to be the centre of attention. Oh, this is not going to be good for them.

* * *

**Vectra Vorona - District Six Mentor.**

It takes all my willpower to sit still on the seat. I can't stop. I just can't stop wondering what is going to happen. I was here, not long ago and I even mentored. But something is different this year. I don't know what's going on, but my gut is not twisting for no reason.

"Vectra, calm down, you'll make yourself ill." Polo chastises.

"I can't help it," I croak out. "Something bad is going to happen. I know it. It's the same feeling I got when my name got called, Polo. Something bad is going to happen and I don't know what."

"You don't have no relatives, so it can't be that."

"No, but tell that to my stomach."

"Who do you know that could get chosen?"

"I don't know, Polo, I just don't know. I know a lot of those kids down there and it could be any of them."

The escort walks on, clicking her heels against the wooden stage. She takes no time to go to the first bowl, but I can't think straight. Something is going to happen. I just know it. She dips her hand in, swirls, before bringing back the first slip.

"Elle Cludiant!"

No. My stomach continues to churn but not for her. I barely knew Elle. Her name drifted around Six, but that was it. Nothing that important came of it. Her dirty blonde hair swishes as she climbs the stage, instantly wrapped up by the escort whose name I haven't bothered to learn. She doesn't flinch, instead, just looking neutral, maybe even a bit bitter.

"And now... Bridge Campbell!"

My whole body falls.

Everything goes incredibly dark as I hear the loud, screaming noise rocketing through the area. Not upset but anger. I focus in on Bridge, watching him scream angrily, glaring at every other child around him. A Peacekeeper approaches him, wrapping Bridge in his arms, avoiding his kicking and thrashing.

Bridge. I knew him, I knew his mother and his father. I knew him too well. He got reaped. He gets dragged to the stage, swearing, screaming, attacking thin air.

"I'll kill you all!"

I look at Polo, who doesn't look fazed. She's so used to the strange Six people, nothing bothers her. She might think she's met all the crazy people she could of, but she's never met someone quite like Bridge.

* * *

**Oakley Canneroy - District Seven Mentor.**

I look out onto the tributes, smiling remotely to myself just through the fact that we could have a winner.

Corvus Shade stands there, looking pretty distant and determined. If he wasn't from Seven, you would think that he was a Career of some sort. He doesn't have the muscles or the mean look to him, but he does have that unapproachable presence that shows he's a fighter, that he's going to try his hardest.

His partner, Cypress Nelson, looks just the same, if not even more angry. Her arms are crossed over her chest, glare fixed on her face.

Slowly, the escort leads the pair behind to the Justice Building, closing the door behind them.

Quickly, Blight turns to me, interested.

"They seem... Different."

I almost could laugh at that. "Whatever do you mean?"

"The boy, Corvus, he looks... I don't know how to put it. Conflicted, maybe? I couldn't tell whether to fear or pity him."

"What about Cypress?"

Blight furrows his eyebrows, looking down at his hands before looking back up at me.

"I want her. Straight off the bat, I can tell she's going to be fiesty, fiery maybe even a bit like an animal. She did not look pleased by getting reaped."

"Was any of us pleased?"

"No," Blight smirks. "But with her, it was like someone had just burned down her house or hit her. Her eyes were screaming murder."

"Compared to Corvus?"

"I don't even want to think about Corvus," Blight remarks as he gets up, walking towards the Justice Building himself. "He's too confusing for me to work out. He's yours, Oakley."

"You're so kind." I laugh.

My mind works wonders as I think about Corvus and Cypress. Blight's right, though. I can't work Corvus out. Whereas Cypress, her anger could easily be the death of her. I watch as Blight tilts his head, looking at the tributes further down the hall, being ushered into their own rooms to see family members and such.

"Blight, whatever you're thinking, stop it."

He spins, raising his hands in self-defense. "Don't worry your pretty little head, Oakley, my plan will do wonders."

* * *

**Dorsey Marrow - District Eight Mentor.**

Silk looks out the window of the parked train, focused on the swarm of cameras and people waiting to see the beloved tributes for this year. Every year is the same. Every year, Silk reduces into nothing more than a hollow shell, walking around aimlessly.

"Silk, sweetie, looking out the window isn't going to make them come any faster."

Silk nods, playing with the hem of her dress.

I frown, turning back to the food at the table. I know exactly what she's thinking, sadly. The boy, Ty Herring, was no more than 14 years old. He looked so tiny, scared and more importantly, young. He looked incredibly young. He took it all in his stride, though, trying to look brave and act tough for the watching crowd. Looking weak does nothing but encourage yourself to be killed early on.

Silk is worried about having another kid's death on her mind.

The door slides open, revealing our escort, Harmonica, arms wrapped around the two tributes in question.

"Now, these are your mentors, you must go meet them!"

Slowly, Ty walks into the room, smiling widely at me.

"I know you. You're Dorsey, you won ages ago but people know who you are."

"You're observant," I laugh. "And I know who you are. You're the boy who looked incredibly brave when his name was chosen."

"I tried," Ty forces a smile, before looking at Silk, whose eyes are trained on Ty. "Hi, Silk."

She forces a smile similar to Ty's before looking at Rowen. Rowen Knight. My heart felt for her when her name was chosen. Most people, when they get chosen, you can hear the faint sobs and pity looks. But when it came to Rowen, it was another thing. They seperated, jeering and laughing discretely at her. Nobody looked sorry to see Rowen get chosen. In fact, most of them looked happy. One child, when Rowen stood in front of the crowd, laughed loudly and obnoxiously. He was quickly taken by a Peacekeeper.

Deserve it, if you ask me.

"Rowen, I believe you should come with m-"

"No, Dorsey," Silk interrupts, smiling. "I want to mentor Rowen. You can mentor Ty, okay?"

I look back at Rowen, who looks at Silk with a smile, before looking at Ty, whose grin is even bigger.

"Okay then, sweetie, I'll mentor." I grin at Ty.

* * *

**Auckland Dace - District Nine Mentor.**

I look across the table at the tributes, Isaac Eibrab and Komara Grey. Within seconds, Barley scooped up who she wanted. Always had been a bit of a sexist, Barley. Preferred girls over guys, still does.

"So, Isaac, do you want to talk about strategies at all? Maybe throw some things around and work something out?"

Isaac looks up, shrugs and looks back down at the soup in front of him. He looked depressed at the reaping, but that's expected. Now, I can see the depression stems a lot further than just getting your name picked from a bowl and your death sentence lined up. Maybe he thinks he has no chance whatsoever? He's a large guy. 18 years old gives him an advantage straightaway. He's pretty tall, pretty well-built. Really, he could be pitched to join the Careers, but I don't see that happening just yet.

"Komara, how about we go talk in another carriage? Let the boys play with their toys." Barley snides, looking at Komara.

Komara doesn't respond the way she wants, though. She simply shrugs, just like Isaac. I can't quite work Komara out. At the reaping, she fainted and was carried onto the stage. Isaac just stared at her unconscious body whilst it all went by. Then, a Peacekeeper carried her into the Justice Building and by the time she got to the train, she was awake. Maybe Isaac was looking for some reassurance?

"Barley, how about working a more practical solution? Teaming them up?"

Barley frowns. "I don't think that is such a good idea."

"Why?"

"I think Komara would benefit other tributes in an alliance. Maybe even herself."

Anger bubbles inside me. "How do you know this is what Komara wants? She hasn't spoken a word to you."

Barley catches up, cheeks flushed with annoyance. "Because I'm her mentor and I know what's best for her."

"You think you do," I correct her. "You're going by what _you_ want. What _you_ think is best for her through your assumptions, rather than what she actually might want herself."

Barley stands, angered. "I don't have to be talked to like this."

I roll my eyes, looking at both Komara and Isaac. Once again, Isaac doesn't respond at all. He sips quietly at his soup, looking at the table. Komara just looks up, slightly confused as Barley storms out of the carriage, making sure to slam her door loud enough.

"Ignore her," I force a smile. "She's being spoilt."

Komara bites back a laugh, looking at her food. Sure, I could mentor them both if necessary. It might be hard, but so was the Games, and I got through that. Barely.

* * *

**Buttercup Springton - District Ten Mentor.**

"So, Rudy, tell me about yourself a little."

I look at Jederoe, who sips at his whiskey before looking at Tanna, who only seems to glare at Rudy slightly. Rudy smiles, but shakes his head.

"I d-don't wanna talk about them..."

"Why's that, sweetie?" I ask.

Rudy swallows loudly, catching an annoyed look from Tanna, before speaking again. "I just don't. I'm not going home, I know that. I don't want to think about my family watching me."

It hurts. I understand why now. When he got reaped and I saw a group of children crying, I knew they were his siblings. Nine siblings. I'm not surprised. Ten tends to have large, farming families where the children don't do school, but rather work out in the fields with the animals all day. I was one of those children, so was Jederoe. It does, in a twisted sense, give you some survival skills and experience for what the Games could throw at you. That's important.

I nod, looking at Tanna. "How about you? What about your family?"

Tanna smirks, looking at the knife on the table, silver glistening. "My family loves me. I have cows in my backyard. I look after them, but they keep dying lately. We've made loads of money for their meat, though, but I miss them."

Jederoe looks at her, puzzled. "Do you know why they keep dying, Tanna?"

Tanna's smirk grows slightly darker as she bows her head to the table. "My family don't know."

My eyebrows crinkle as I look at Rudy, whose head is tilted, eyes trained on Tanna curiously.

"Tanna, you work on a farm?"

Tanna's head snaps to Rudy. "Yes, I do."

"So do I!" Rudy beams. "I love working on the farm. The sunshine, animals, grass."

"Yeah, it's great..."

"What's your favourite animal?" Jederoe asks, taking another sip of whiskey.

Tanna only smiles even more. She looks up and brushes a stand of her from her forehead. "Cows."

Then it clicks. I've heard of Hines Farm. They did gain loads of money through beef. Apparently, some sort of disease hit their animals, killed their cows one by one. Except, that's what people are believing. Rumours were that the cows had multiple knife wounds in them. The way Tanna is looking at the knife, glaring at Rudy like he's nothing more than a target... It makes sense, sadly.

* * *

**Chaff Barnwood - District Eleven Mentor.**

Basil twists the rope bracelet attached to his wrist, smiling softly to himself. He's in his own little world, but I roughly know what's going on. I'm guessing the bracelet came from a loved one, and possibly, it's helping Basil cope with being reaped and the possibility he won't return home to whoever it belongs too.

"Why don't you have an arm?"

I look at the little voice, seeing Maybelle, sweet, short Maybelle, looking curiously at the stub that used to be my arm, tears streaming her face. Even upset, she's still curious and wondering why I'm like the way I am. A part of me doesn't want to mention it to her. Tell her that I lost my arm in the Games, a place she is going too in a few days? That's cruel.

If she was older, maybe. But she's not.

She doesn't smile, keeps her distance, but I can see her eyes fixated on my stub.

I look over at Seeder, who can't bring herself to look at Maybelle at all. Everytime her eyes drift upwards, she quickly snatches them down, as if looking at Maybelle will bring back some bad memories. Seeder's always been soft with young children. I'm guessing she can't bare to see another be killed horrifically.

"I got injured," I smile. "Maybelle, do you want me to mentor you? Yeah, does that sound like fun?"

Maybelle retreats back into her shell, nodding rather than speaking. Something I've learned about Maybelle is that she doesn't like to speak that much. She prefers to watch, maybe ask curiously when it bugs her enough, but never to actually go into a full blown conversation with smiles and such.

Basil doesn't say much but looks up, offering Maybelle a smile before walking to Seeder and taking a seat next to her.

This would be better for Seeder. Having someone who has a better chance. I shouldn't count Maybelle out, but, I know it's going to be difficult and prove stressful and that's something I know Seeder won't be able to handle one bit. He whispers something, Seeder whispers something and the whole time, I can see Maybelle just watching with intense, tear filled eyes.

"Do you want to go talk to them?"

Maybelle shakes her head.

"Want some food? You might want to eat something before we arrive at the Capitol. After that, a lot is going to be expected from you."

Maybelle nods, walking quietly over to the table and taking a seat, an Avox appearing with some food. She hands Maybelle the bowl with a sad smile, but Maybelle smiles back before digging in. I look back at Seeder and Basil, still in a deep conversation before walking to Maybelle.

At least this is better for Seeder. She saved my life, so naturally, I want to do anything I can for her.

* * *

**Haymitch Abernathy - District Twelve Mentor.**

Picking up the next bottle, I take a full swig, allowing the liquid to scorch my throat and body into numbness. I don't bother to take notice of both the kids in front of me. Neither made an impact, neither look tough and frankly, in two years, I've seen enough death to deal with my lifetime.

"Erm, excuse me?"

My vision is blurry, but I strain it, looking at the girl. Ember Auger. A Seam girl. Straight of the bat, that much is obvious. Dark hair, dirty skin and just the overall look that screams poor. She doesn't have much of a chance in the Games, then, which is sad, because she's easy to create an angle for. Sweet, charming and just a tad of innocence. Even if she isn't like that, that is the best option for her.

"What?"

"Nothing," Ember retreats. "Ravi, do you have anything to say?"

Ravi keeps quiet, looking at the table with curiosity. Ravi Coal, doesn't look much like a fighter either, but really, he probably has a better chance than Ember. It's nothing against either of them. But I need fighters, not children. I need kids who are willing to do anything to save themselves.

Sadly, I believe Ravi and Ember aren't those children.

Ravi is further down the line compared to Ember, but Ember is definitely easier to sell.

Both have their weaknesses and both have their strengths. Taking another swig, I hear the train slow down to a halt, camera flashes peppering the windows quickly. I stand, allowing Ravi and Ember to do as they please. But like puppies, they follow me. I can see the swarm of people, the vultures, waiting to catch a glimpse of more bloodbath children from Twelve. Arlo isn't even here this year. Getting ill just before the reaping so she doesn't have to come out and watch more die.

Easily, we get pushed into the building, both Ravi and Ember looking confused and dazed.

"Get used to it," I scoff. "That's your life until you die. Whether you die in the arena or you survive. No matter what, they're always going to be around, watching you because either way, you're like celebrities for the time being."

"I don't want this though." Ravi pipes up.

Ember agrees, nodding her head sadly. "Neither do I."

"Why can't we just stay in peace until going in?" Ravi argues.

"Yeah, why can't that happen?"

"You don't exactly have a choice, sweethearts," I walk, letting Ravi and Ember following me. "Welcome to the Hunger Games."

* * *

**Help, I'm Alive by Metric.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place.**

* * *

**30 Points -**

**25 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**15 Points -**

**10 Points -**

**5 Points -**

**No vote can be for your tribute. **

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

* * *

**Okay, so here are the reapings. Some are short, I'm sorry. Vote again please.**

**I'll be working on alliances and such. No-one is going to be alone this time round. If you have any ideas for who you want your tribute to work with in an alliance, message me please. :)**


	4. Long Live

_I still remember this moment,_  
_In the back of my mind._  
_The time we stood with our shaking hands, _  
_The crowds in stands went wild. _

_We were the kings and the queens, _  
_And they read off our names. _  
_The night you danced like you knew our lives, _  
_Would never be the same _

_You held your head like a hero. _  
_On a history book page, _  
_It was the end of a decade. _  
_But the start of an age. _

_Long live the walls we crashed through, _  
_While the kingdom lights shined just for me and you, _  
_I was screaming, long live all the magic we made, _  
_And bring on all the pretenders, one day we will be remembered._

* * *

**Beauty D'Avanzo.**

"Twirl for me, Beauty," My stylist says, finger laid neatly on her chin. "Go on, you know you look stunning, flaunt it."

At her request, I spin, allowing the beautiful, gold laced dress to fall down in rows, enhancing everything. I have to admit, the dress is something. It's not the usual, awful things they throw the tributes in. I've seen some tapes of old opening ceremonies, tributes dressed in the most awful things in the world. But no. For once, One has a stylist who knows what to do. I stop, smiling as I look around the large room, noticing a few, bedazzled eyes landed on me.

"I would say they're jealous."

I scoff, turning to face Topaz. "Of course they are. I'm sponsor-gold. The rest of them are nothing compared to my potential."

"Don't get too big, sweetie, you need _actual_ skills to back up the pretty."

"And I'm both, Topaz," I drawl, looking at the woman whose looks have abandoned her long ago. "Lets not get annoyed with the fresher, more cuter, potential that is going to replace _you_ soon."

Topaz rolls her eyes, before walking over to Jubilee and Logan. They've been awfully close, come to think of it. When we got here, Jubilee pounced on him like an animal to prey. Like a cougar, actually. Topaz places her hand angrily on Jubilee's shoulder, ushering her away with annoyance. Logan stands there, bewildered, before walking over to me. He's cute, in a weird, not-like-an-actual-man, kind of way. Like a teenage boy crush.

"I have no idea what that was."

"I do," I smile. "I think Jubilee likes what she _sees_."

He tilts his head, letting his curls fall slightly. "Well I don't think Jubilee is after that, to be quite honest. I think she was just curious."

The poor thing. So naive. "Well then, have _no_ fear."

Without having another word and a flip of my hair, I climb aboard our chariot, letting the lights illuminate my dress so greatly. Logan joins me, dressed particularly nice, wearing a bedazzled tunic. He doesn't say a word, but instead, looks forward, calculating something in his mind.

That's the thing I've learned slightly about Logan. He doesn't seem to have a reason for this, or at least, an obvious one. Me, I'm here to do my family proud and become what I should be; famous. The other Careers? Look different, but again, obvious. Logan is a weird one. He looked confused, lost, standing on that stage. Like he wanted to do it and then, changed his mind just a little too late.

"We doing the usual, you know, following tradition? One, Two and Four?"

I turn, smiling my toothy grin. "Of course, dear Logan. Honestly. Some people might start to think you regret this choice or you're not even _prepared_."

His eyes find mine, but I look away, smirking. Yep. I nailed that one. I stay quiet as I look to the side, noticing the boy from Two, quietly being moaned at by the ever-famous, Marcia. And I thought I was the only one with Mentor problems.

* * *

**Hollis Brood.**

I stare into the distance, not wanting to meet eyes with Marcia, who seems pissed off to the extreme. She's been on my back ever since we got off that damned stage. Instead of actually asking me anything, Marcia has taken to her usual method into trying to get me to feel crap about myself, belittle and insult me.

"You looked weak up there, Hollis," Marcia seethes. "Honestly. Nobody would think you were trained except for that ridiculous leather jacket. Besides that, you looked like a confused, scared, weak little boy who couldn't lift a mace he swears he can so proudly swing.

When I don't respond, with my jaw clenched, Marcia carries on, realising she needs to break me even more.

"For _fuck_ sake," Marcia sighs. "You weren't supposed to mess this up. You weren't supposed to go and fall in _love_ with some pathetic street urchin. If you had to go and have a heart, Hollis, you could have at least picked a girl from the Training Centre who has a backbone."

That catches me, though. "I'm _not_ weak."

Marcia fumes, throwing her hands in the air. "Out of everything I said and _that's_ the thing you want to defend yourself on? That I insulted your _pride_?"

"You said a lot of things, Marcia, that is the only thing I'm _choosing_ to respond too."

"You have a lot of balls, I'll tell you _that_," Marcia takes a breath, running a hand across her forehead. "Then again, that's why I actually bothered with you."

"Then _don't_ complain."

"Then _don't_ give me any lip," Marcia points at me, angered. "I swear Hollis. You're impressive, but not as impressive as me. You're only here, alive in fact, because of me. So _don't_ push your luck. I might have stopped those kids from killing you, but trust me, I could _easily_ take their place and do it myself."

Screw Marcia. Screw everything she's ever done for me. I'm proud, grateful even, but she treats me like some pet project rather than a human being. I'm sick and tired of it. My eyes linger over to Andromeda, dressed so beautifully in our costume, talking quietly with Brutus.

Something about her is so mystifying. So magical.

She's not like other girls at the Training Centre, where they threaten to kill you if you don't date them. No, she's different because she's from the real world, not cooped up in the same building I grew up in.

"You're staring at her again. Stop staring at her and lose that heart, Hollis, it's making you _weak_."

I give up arguing with her. It's pointless. Instead, I nod and force a sarcastic smile. Marcia huffs before walking off and the minute she's gone, I'm up on the chariot, eyes still tracing over Andromeda. She talks with Brutus a bit more, before walking over, head held high and climbs up.

"I've been told we have to look like a team," I lie, because well, I want to at least make a step forward. "So I think we should raise our hands?"

Andromeda stares me, and for a moment, it's cold. Then, slowly, it warms. "I don't know about that. I want to be on my own, really."

When I go to touch Andromeda's hand, she flinches, before stepping back a little. I want to ask her about it, but the doors swing open and suddenly, I can't hear anything but screams.

* * *

**Aimee Wyre.**

I can't stop my body from shaking. I can't keep calm, quiet or even a little bit collected. I just want to cry. I look at Surge as the wheels roll forward, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't say a thing, actually, not to me or Beetee or Walden. He keeps quiet. He nods, shakes his head, and when I do hear him speak, it's in a small, timid voice and only one word answers like yes and no.

My hands mindlessly wipe at my costume as the bright lights blind me, and for a moment, I hear nothing but screams.

We push forward a bit more, and once again, I look at Surge, expecting some sort of emotion from him. But nothing. He doesn't flinch as I hear some insults thrown at us from District Three. He keeps focused, eyes locked on a spot in the distance, cold blue stuck on something invisible. I whimper slightly, snapping my head to the other side, unable to find something to focus. Tears stream my face, splashing against the costume.

Stupid costume, I don't like it.

"You'll be fine."

I find Surge's face, thinking that the muted whisper must actually be from him, simply because it couldn't have been anyone else.

He stares at me, before blinking and looking back, as if he couldn't believe he could say anything at all. It takes me aback. I look at him and I can't fight the smile that pushes onto my face. It's comforting, I admit that.

The wheels begin to stop as we reach the circle, President Snow standing at his podium, smile hidden beneath his beard. I want to get Surge to comfort me. But he doesn't even look in my direction, and really, I don't blame him. We're going to be facing against each other. He's probably just as terrified as I am. As our chariot stops, I watch as Four pulls up next to us, followed by the Five chariot. The girl looks stunning, so does the boy.

_Bena_.

I remember his name, just because it seemed different. He looks at me and forces a small, sweet smile that I can't help respond, no doubt going against my wet face from crying. He has a nice smile. After a while, I look at the crowd, noticing the rainbow sea bouncing up and down slightly. Eleven pulls in, followed by Twelve and then, it's over. President Snow takes to his speech, and for now, I drift out.

I only come back when I notice our chariot moving forward slowly, wheels creaking. Surge doesn't say a thing, not so surprising, as we move into the centre once more, noise drowned out.

"You did great," Beetee smiles softly. "_Really_ great."

I smile back at that as I step down. "I hope so."

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

The elevator hums quietly, my mind doing loops. That was amazing. The cheers, the applauds, the screams... All for me. Well, others as well. But I heard my name. I can almost squeal with delight. I never expected it to be quite like this. Sure, I've seen it on TV, but I never expected it to be so... Surreal. I never expected to enjoy it this much. I wonder if Indigo and Blaine were watching me. I wonder if they were secretly jealous... I know we had this plan, to do it one after the other, but there is always the possibility of Blaine being just a bit aggravated I got to go first.

He would do somersaults to be here. Well, next year for him.

"I can't believe how amazing that was," I speak aloud, not realising it. It catches Misty's attention, whom looks at me. "Don't you agree? How surreal and mindblowing that was?"

Misty shrugs. "It's _not_ the limelight, but about the reality."

"I know the reality of it, though." I counter.

Misty shrugs again. "We're going to be killing for entertainment. Somehow, I don't think you understand what you've gotten yourself into."

"You've done the same as me, volunteering."

"I had my reasons."

"So did _I_."

"So then lets leave it," Misty smiles. "You won't change your mind and neither will I. Lets agree to disagree."

I shake my head. I do know the reality of it, though. I know that reality comes crashing when you enter the Games, that everything changes when you make your first kill and so on. I know that all happens and that's why I need to do it. I need to find me, to find myself and who I am. Am I just the joking, rebellious teenager? Am I anti-social, annoying? Even I'm too confused to decipher myself. But no-one will understand how I feel.

Not even Misty and her softness.

"You're conflicted."

I smile, looking at Misty. "You're really good, you know that?"

"I just know what that look is," Misty points out. "When you have no idea what to think, but you're trying, and you just can't put the pieces in the right place."

"It's like you're living in my mind." I laugh.

Misty smiles, before looking back, just as the elevator doors hum open. Misty steps out and walks away, still quiet. I look around, before smirking and walking off to my escort's room, planning on leaving her a nice, little present in the form of a prank.

* * *

**Modessa Lilian.**

I hated it. I hate this, all of it, being put out into the spotlight like some animal, being prepped and cleaned to just be slaughtered. I could see them, though, looking at me. The costume was tight, deathly tight, clinging to my skin. It was to enhance my figure, to make me look "beautiful". She knew and she wanted to torture me for it. My stylist could see my body, how thin I was, and wanted to take advantage of that.

"Oh, Modessa darling, you looked absolutely _divine_! Gave that girl from One a run for her money!"

I snarl under my breath, but carry on walking towards the elevator faster, not wanting to see. I just want out of this. I want to get out of this costume, out of the camera's views and snaps and just curl up under my bed. I'm not made to be in the limelight. I'm not like those airheads from One. It takes a moment for Aster to catch up to me. Tentatively, he taps me on the shoulder, so I turn.

"Modessa, are you okay?" Aster asks quietly.

"I'm fine," I reply, suddenly feeling conscious. I just want to shrink into nothing. "I'm perfect, actually."

"You're not."

"I think I know myself more than _you_ do, Aster, no offence."

"None taken," Aster smiles sadly. "I'm here to help, 'Dessa. If you need me, just shout."

"I will," I smile lightly, but really, it probably looks forced. Come to think of it, it is. "I promise."

Aster nods, before walking over to Cable who has joined us, Bena joined at his hip. I know Bena. Well, not him, but his father. Notorious. I went to the same school, and well, kids seemed to be indifferent with Bena. Maybe fear, maybe scared, maybe even a bit jealous... I have no idea. I've never bothered to ask because I've never bothered to talk to him, even now, even when we're being thrown into an arena to fight to the death.

Funny what life can do, really.

Bena stands next to me, silent, almost irritated. I look at him, before rolling my eyes, looking over at the Three section, seeing the weird kid standing off from the others, eyes fixed on the wall.

"You're Modessa, right?"

I look over at Bena, seeing his eyes still on the ground. "Yeah."

"Can we trade Mentors?"

I fight back the laugh, because really, I would rather trade with a kid that isn't about to fight for the death. "I take it you don't like Cable that much."

"It's not that I _don't_ like him," Bena protests. "He's new. Aster has experience and age."

"That won't make much difference."

"It will to me. With Aster, I can get everything more smooth. I'll be able to know what I'm doing and control it."

"You're cranky, clearly," I remark. "I can tell, it's obvious."

"I can tell you're conscious, that _much_ is obvious."

My body freezes at his words. My hand wanders to my stomach, patting the area almost robotically. Sadness fills up what isn't either anger or disgust, and now, I'm full of different emotions that have nothing to do with my current situation. I fight back peppering tears as I walk away, ignoring the possible snipe or apology Bena calls out after me. It goes quiet and really, I wish he had. It would be less painful.

* * *

**Bridge Campbell.**

"Bridge? Are you okay?"

Her from Five walks into the elevator, slamming the button with a lot of anger. I get that. I understand that. I am that, after all. A lot of anger in a hollow shell. Well, anger and a little bit of sadism, but that's no big deal. I'm used to it. But her from Five... Her anger shows sadness.

It's magical, really.

"Bridge?"

Just something about the sadness and the pain, mixed together... It's like paintings. The colours blending and moving, making the picture.

"Bridge!"

"What?" I snap at Polo, who looks at me with a mixture of anger and confusion. "Why do you have to be _so_ annoying?"

Polo smirks, crossing her arms. "Yeah, Vectra mentioned something about you being a bit of a _brat_."

I scoff. "Yeah, _I'm_ a brat, clearly."

Turning away, I look at Elle, who seems focused in getting herself away from the crowd, especially Vectra, and into the elevator. Vectra seemed slightly gutted about getting Elle as her tribute. But she warned Polo. She thought she was secretive enough. Don't get me wrong, I tolerate Vectra, but she isn't the best at keeping her voice. She told Polo about me and my 'problems'. Except, it doesn't exactly work too well. So I'm slightly twisted, so what? I have my reasons. I wasn't like this, I was made like this.

Maybe Vectra should have mentioned that.

"Well, go get in the elevator and go up," Polo orders me with a sense of dignity in her voice. Pity. "But leave Elle alone. She's never done anything to you."

"Leave her alone?" My voice raises. "I've never said a word to Elle or anything for that matter. _You_ jump to conclusions too much, Po."

"She is a good girl with a kind heart."

"And I'm just a little fucker, right? Just a screwed up boy, no correction, not screwed up, because he's just a sick bastard naturally, obviously. You're ignorance is _disgusting_."

Her eyebrows are far up her forehead, reaching the rim of her dark hair. "Vectra mentioned an anger problem."

"Think what you want," I scoff, walking away and waving her away with my hand. "I've had enough of your _crap_."

I jump in the elevator, slamming the button and going up. The electrical hum is annoying, but soon enough, the doors open and I see Elle, sat at the table. She looks at me and offers a polite smile, something I never return because that just isn't me. Instead, I nod, because deep down, I respect Elle enough to leave her alone. Because really, I just want to prove to Polo that her ignorance isn't flattering and really, I'm better than her and her judgements.

* * *

**Cypress Nelson.**

"So, do you like that idea, Cypress?"

I look over at Blight, nodding, before taking another sip. Ever since we got here, Blight hasn't gotten off my case about the ploy he wants me to play. I get it, it's great, but the man is now taking it to the next stage where his head is swelling from his brilliance.

"Perfect. You know, I think we could have a winner this year."

"Yeah," I reply, not with any emotion, except the possible anger inside me. "Except Corvus is a good shot, as well. I don't know him but look at him. He has a better chance than me."

"Not technically," Blight protests. "You're equal, if not, you're slightly better. Trust me, I'm better at mentoring that Oakley."

I laugh, lounging back against my chair. Now, it's getting rather annoying. "You keep saying. Honestly, Blight, I don't see why you don't just become the freaking President and get on with transforming the world into _your_ dream."

"I like your fire."

"I don't like much of yours," I roll my eyes. "Sorry. But really, Blight, I get it. You can be quiet now."

"No, we have to clear it up. In about ten minutes, you're going down to start training. You know what you have to do, so make sure you do it right."

I sigh, nodding again as I get up, noticing Corvus leave his bedroom, looking slightly tired, but still impressively ready. He walks over, face contorted into nothing. No obvious emotion at all. Really, Corvus has become an enigma, completely unable to work out.

"You ready?" I ask sarcastically.

Corvus smiles softly. "Ready than I'll _ever_ be."

"Good, because we got to do well, after all. If I can't win, then you have too, just so my family can eat better this year than ever."

Corvus doesn't respond, instead, he holds out his hand, which I shake, confirming our deal. I would like to win, obviously, I value my life. But if I don't, then I want Corvus to, because Seven will still benefit and my family will eat well. The elevator doors open with a hiss, and me and Corvus step in, before they close. The mechanical whirl keeps the tension from falling. Corvus doesn't speak and I don't want to, so really, we're a match made in heaven.

The elevator begins to slow down, reaching the destination.

The doors open, flood lights pouring in and now, we begin and time to put Blight's plan into action.

* * *

**Rowen Knight.**

I stand just a few metres away from Ty, watching him grinning playfully at the woman in charge, and I guess, at the other tributes. So naive, I almost envy him. It doesn't take long for the woman to start her speech, letting us know of the few rules they do have. No fighting, four to a station, and to try out a mixture, rather than one. I put that together with Silk's reminder that the stations give a hint as to what the arena could be like.

"Now, go."

I shake out my trance, looking around. Already, a group has formed and that has to be the Careers, though I don't remember any of them.

I look left and right, seeing kids disappearing to stations, some having small talk with others. And then there is me. Standing in the middle, alone, looking lost. Just like Eight. I squeeze my eyes shut, tears threatening to spill at the mere memory of my reaping. My name was called, and then, they started what they've always done. Small, quiet comments as I walked past. Nudges and hard pats that almost made me stumble.

Words.

Cruel words.

Ragdoll.

_Ragdoll_.

Then the laughing. Torment. Jeering and cheering, all calling for my _blood_. No-one cared to take notice of my tears or for the fact that, never before, has a tribute been cheered in a non-Career district. They wouldn't leave me alone. My hand goes to my blind eye, pressing and probing around the eyelid. I can't see anything and to others, I look like a freak with two different colour eyes. They done this to me, though, they created what they don't like.

Suddenly, warmth covers my other hand, and I open my eyes, noticing the odd boy from Six, staring at me with, what I'm guessing, a mixture of anger and sadness.

"You were crying."

I blink, using my eyelashes to wash away the tears, realising that yes, they did spill when I opened them. He pulls his hand away, not a smile to his face, but an unusual sense of comfort.

"You looked lonely. I don't like lonely people, so, I came over. I'm Bridge."

I smile sadly. "Rowen, but call me Roe."

"_Well_ then, Roe," Bridge holds his hand out, still no smile. "How about you tell me about yourself over at _that_ station?"

I take the hand, wondering what the hell I'm doing. Bridge doesn't look like that much of a nice guy. He doesn't smile, yet, I still find comfort. He doesn't seem open, yet, I find it. He's everything in a person to make you avoid them. And now, I'm being lead over to a station with a boy that threatened to kill everyone back in Six, from what I saw of the replays. Looks like there are more people than just me that have horrid backgrounds.

* * *

**Isaac Eibrab.**

"I'll leave you to it," Komara says, placing down her pieces of fishing net, before getting up. "I'm off to go and see about an alliance. Catch you later."

With that last word, Komara walks off, dark hair flipping. She is something. A bit of a dark horse, I've decided. Komara seems to be tough competition, but people underestimate her by her size or personality. She goes from cold to bitter to dark within seconds. I haven't seen her smile or laugh, but I bet it's possible, just because I've learned that with Komara, you can't expect anything because she will trash every thought you had of her.

She fainted at the reaping... Yet doens't seem weak.

I wrap the net around again, trying my hardest. But it's useless. Everything is useless, really. Who am I kidding... I have no chance to survive. I never had a chance when I got reaped. Sure, Nine can still have a winner in Komara.

I don't notice the boy until he's next to me, taking Komara's net and trying for himself. He's young, kind, I'm guessing. He doesn't say anything except smile as he wraps the net again and again, even sticking his tongue out and biting down to concentrate. He looks at me and keeps the smile, it's only then when I recognise him. Ty, the boy from Eight. 14, if I'm correct. So positive, so young and so naive.

"This is hard."

I nod, looking at my net. That word describes everything, really. "Yep."

"I'm Ty," Ty smiles, holding out his hand. I take it, carefully. "I'm from Eight."

"I know."

Ty grins, looking at my net before watching the trainer repeat the process again. "I know who you are. Isaac Eibrab, Nine. Your reaping was normal, but your partner, she fainted. Wow, these nets are _difficult_."

"Got a good memory."

"Photographic."

"That should come in handy."

Ty smiles, handing me his net. I look at the knots and ties, looking almost exactly like what the trainer done. Professional, in fact. Not something I could do. Then again, I can't do much. Even Ty, little, naive Ty can do more then I can. That says a lot about me, really, and my chances in the Games. Bloodbath, that's what I'm thinking.

"Do you want to be in an alliance?" Ty asks quietly.

I look at him with raised eyebrows. It takes a while to actually say something, my mouth is so dry and really, I'm just so shocked. It takes everything for me to nod, because somehow, I don't see Ty being a threat and it's not like I can do much to kill him. Because, well, I'm not a threat.

* * *

**Rudy Millwater.**

"Here you go kids."

I take the knife from the trainer, smiling, before looking at Tanna, who flips the item in her hand. She shrugs, before flipping it again.

"Do you have _anything_ bigger?"

The trainer laughs, before looking underneath his station. "Well, someone is eager to go up. Kid, you might be better with the small knife first."

"I'll be fine," Tanna smirks. "You have _no_ idea what I can do."

He hands her the bigger knife, silver blade shining underneath the flood lights. Tanna grins wickedly, before walking up, me chasing up after her. It doesn't take her long to find a dummy, which she slashes easily, cotton falling to the floor. I just watch in amazement as she slices again and again and again. It's only when she looks up, do I snap out of it.

"What you looking at?"

"You're amazing!" I grin. "Absolutely amazing! Where did you learn that?"

Tanna smirks again. "You don't want to know. Trust me, I doubt _you_ could handle the truth."

"I can handle _anything_!" I stand up straighter, pushing my chest out. "I'm strong enough."

"_Sure_ you are," Tanna scoffs. "Are you going to have a go?"

I laugh at her, noticing her smug she can be. But I'm good enough. Good enough to be her ally and good enough to win this. I smile, confident, gripping the knife as I look over to the dummy. I put all my weight into my arm, making a slash as I close my eyes. When I open them, I barely see a ripple along the white fabric. Tanna laughs from behind, but that doesn't stop me. I put the knife on the floor, before stepping back to Tanna.

"What are you _doing_?" Tanna asks.

I smile. "Using what I do best."

I take a run, swinging my arms, bringing up as much momentum as possible. I leap, opening my arms, landing into the dummy. It wobbles, as we fall to the floor in a heap. It takes a bit of wind out of me, but I get up anyway. When I turn back, Tanna has her arms crossed, looking surprised but angered.

"Well?"

Tanna shrugs. "Whatever."

* * *

**Basil Larkspur.**

I look around at the stations, deciding what is best for me to do. I have no idea, just yet. Do I show them what I can do, if I can do it? Or do I hide it? Do I _try_ to make allies or do I keep to myself? I honestly have no idea. I walk back and forth, keeping an eye out for Maybelle, whose sitting down at a station, trying to create a fire, the girl from Twelve not far from her.

The boy, however, is walking towards me. I don't even know his name, yet, I have a funny feeling he knows mine. This is what Seeder mentioned by being 'approached', where someone comes to me in person to become an ally. I have to size them up, apparently. Work out whether they'll be help or hinderance, whether I can find them beneficial or not, whether they have strengths that are helpful towards me.

He stops, offers a tiny smile, before holding out his hand.

"I'm Ravi. Yeah, err, I thought since our district partners seem to be allies, I thought maybe _we_ should."

I take his hand tentatively, before nodding slowly. "Sure, why not. What can you do?"

"I have _some_ strength," Ravi concludes. "Well, not as much as someone like you probably has, but I have some."

"That's good enough for me."

"What's your weapon?"

"My _weapon_?"

"What you're best at," Ravi furrows his eyebrows. "What your strategy is."

Do I tell him my strategy, now that we're allies? He seems nice, don't get me wrong. But I want to go home. That's why I told Seeder I refuse to partner up with Maybelle. Not because I don't like her, I feel a lot of pity for her. But I need to go home, and really, I'd rather not see her fall. She has, obviously, but I'm not doing it and I would rather someone else do it instead.

"Knife I guess." I shrug.

"Spear," Ravi nods. "Look, I'll show you."

Ravi walks over to the station, collecting a small spear from the trainer. He smiles, before stepping into the middle and throwing it. It spins and cuts the air, before landing on the dummy and then bouncing off, almost effortlessly. He walks up and grabs the spear, before running his fingers along the fabric. He frowns.

"Barely made a dent."

I tilt my head. "Well, you can practice."

"That I could. Go on, go get a knife, lets do this _thing_!"

I nod, walking to the station for a knife. Not that great with a spear. Oh well, guess I can't turn him down after accepting him. Guess we'll have to see what else he can provide to this alliance of ours.

* * *

**Ember Auger.**

"That's good," I smile at Maybelle, who strikes the match against the rock again. "Keep trying that, I'm sure something will come out."

Maybelle does it again, sparks fly, but nothing actually happens. The pile of dead leaves and logs sit there almost mockingly, whilst Maybelle continues to strike her rock. I had to help her. I noticed her alone, her district partner clearly not wanting to help her, bit like Ravi actually, and she just wandered around, watching everyone with a curious eye. Then she came here and something happened. My legs just moved.

And now, I have an ally in her.

A spark flies to the log, lights a little, before dying out.

"You'll get the hang of it," I encourage her. "When I was working in the bakery, I had trouble getting things to work. It took a lot of practice. But then, when I did, I became a pro at it."

"Thank you," Maybelle whispers. "For everything."

"No problem sweetheart."

I look out, noticing Ravi with Maybelle's district partner, in a small conversation. Both just near abandoned us, basically. Whereas me, I'm about loyalty and family. I see a girl as young as Maybelle alone, I _need_ to protect her. Then, her from Nine catches my eye, walking over. She stops before us and offers the slightest of smiles. Then, she bends down, taking a rock and scratching it pretty quickly, surprisingly, starting sparks to beam from the logs.

Maybelle blinks a couple of times at the flames, before looking at Komara.

"Sorry," Komara stands back up. "I needed a good way to get into the alliance."

Then, I blink a few times. An alliance with us? Someone like Komara, who by appearance and that, seems secretive and reserved... Wanting to be with me, from Twelve and Maybelle, a 12 year old. Maybe she has a death wish.

"If you _want_," I offer. "Don't feel obliged."

"I wouldn't have come over here if I didn't want too," Komara defends herself. "I thought you guys look at least the smallest bit of honest and warm, compared to the rest. I'm about trust and something about you two just _screams_ that."

Either that's a good thing or not. If we scream trust, we scream vulnerability.

Komara sits down next to Maybelle again, who studies her carefully before smiling softly. Something is a little off with Komara. I suddenly feel a protective urge for Maybelle, but she seems comfortable with Komara. But this place, this arena, this game... You can't trust _anyone_.

* * *

**Long Live by Taylor Swift.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place.**

* * *

**30 Points -**

**25 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**15 Points -**

**10 Points -**

**5 Points -**

**No vote can be for your tribute. **

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

* * *

**The blog has been updated, alliances are there as well as names for the tributes. I've always done names, so now, I've given each tribute one. The names are hints to their personality, my storyline for them and just general what to expect.**

**I also made a massive mistake last chapter. The District Four girl is Misty, I just forgot to actually write that in. Oops...**

**No worries, the district partners of these tributes will be featured in the next chapter. Then switch, switch and arena! I'm excited, are you excited?**


	5. Disenchanted

_Well I was there on the day,  
They sold the cars for the queen,  
And when the lights all went out,  
We watched our lives on the screen._

_I hate the ending myself,  
But it started with an all right scene._

_It was the roar of the crowd,  
That gave me heartache to sing,_  
_It was a lie when they smiled_  
_And said, "You won't feel a thing",_

_And as we ran from the cops,  
We laughed so hard it would sting._

_Yeah yeah, oh._

* * *

**Logan Voss.**

"You know, you're really cute," Jubilee giggles slightly, before tracing her fingertips down my arm. "And for your age, you have quite the muscles."

I don't respond. I don't know how to respond, really. She doesn't faze me at all. In fact, up close, she just reminds me of Beauty, personality to match. I sigh, pushing myself from her grasp before walking away, hearing Beauty's trademark snigger as I reach the elevator.

"Oh no, looks like someone has an admirer." Beauty smirks.

"It's one-sided," I remind her, watching her flip a strand of golden hair from her eyes. "I feel nothing for Jubilee except slight pity that she doesn't play with her own age."

Beauty laughs as the doors close, swallowing us as the electronical hum pulls us down. I take time to notice her features properly, to understand them. Sun-kissed skin, blonde hair and beautiful eyes. Before, I never noticed it. I always got stuck at her arrogant personality, that I never bothered to understand her any further than that. Not that I think I'm above her. I just don't have the time to deal with someone like her.

Every time she looks at me, I can see the glint of confusion. Why does he regret it? Why does he look confused by his choice? Does he even want to be here?

It's obvious. From them all. Andromeda sees it, but ignores it. Hollis gets annoyed by it. Caspian doesn't seem to notice, whilst Misty seems completely oblivious to everything that has something to do with any of us except Caspian. But they'll never understand. They won't understand why I done it, why I'm risking my life. Because compared to them, I have reason. I have a heart that beats.

Not cold like ice.

The doors slid open, revealing the brightly lit room. Day two already for training. As I walk out whilst Beauty seems to glide along the floor, I notice Caspian and Misty doubled up, whilst Hollis seems to be standing next to an awkward Andromeda.

"Looks like a party is going on," Beauty announces as we join them. "I'm here, so hold the applause."

No-one responds to her, which to me, is satisfying.

"So," Andromeda looks up, eyes glinting with a tinge of darkness. "Looks like you wanted to be the leader of our band, you make the move."

That takes me aback. I never expected the title to just be handed to me. Sure, I announced yesterday that I was going to be leader and no-one argued back, but today, well, I expected Caspian or Hollis to rise to the challenge. Yet, neither did.

"Okay, well, just go around. Try what you can, do what you can. Scare the others as much as possible."

"I like your style," Beauty remarks. "Scare them, then, kill them in cold blood when the gong goes."

I don't respond, but really, Beauty knew what I meant. Not to scare them to kill them easier, but to scare them so that they wouldn't dream of taking us on. I want to do this with as little blood on my hands as possible.

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

It doesn't take me long to collect a handful of knives. I might not have been trained. I might just be a street urchin, like Marcia calls me when Brutus isn't around, but I trained myself. I knew what to do. I knew exactly what happened in those walls, and really, I didn't need to have someone teach me. I could do it myself.

Quickly, the first dagger leaves my hand, stabbing the dummy in the eye, gaining a small, collective gasp from the boy from Ten and the girl from Three.

I look at them, a mixture of terror and admiration in their eyes. They remind me of Demi and Sterling, so young and full of innocence. Sure, I chose this. I chose to do this. To come here and fight and kill and win. That's what it's all about, at the end of the day. But they didn't have a choice. So young and childish. From the distance, I can see Hollis, grim face staring at the children before me. Maybe he isn't that much different to me. Maybe... Maybe he doesn't like Logan's idea of scaring them.

The two kids disappear, and as I turn around, I feel the hand to my shoulder. I freeze, flying off of Hollis like he was on fire. He stares, hurt and confused.

"I don't like being touched," I warn him. "No-one ever, ever touches me."

His smile turns dark. "What about the stylist then? Last time I heard, they needed to dress you and make you perfect."

He obviously didn't hear the talk between Brutus and our adoring escort then. The way they touched... They're lucky they still have their limbs. "Well, I don't like it. Im serious, Hollis, do not ever touch me again."

Hollis holds his hands up in mock defense. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

"Now go and leave me to it. I need to practice. Shouldn't you do that? Wouldn't want to upset our perfect leader."

"I've been trained my whole life, Andi," Hollis grins. "And as for our leader, well, something tells me he's not up to the challenge ahead of him. It's like he doesn't realise that, at the end of the day, we'll turn against him. Well, some of us anyway."

I know that comment is directed at both Caspian and Misty, possibly more Misty. She doesn't seem to want to get involved in all the politics surrounding our bloodthirsty alliance. Well, not all that bloodthirsty, since we all have hearts in some aspects. Except Hollis, but Two trainees are like that. Heartless.

"She has more brains then the rest of us then." I remark coldly.

"Brains?" Hollis laughs harshly, dark and breathy. "I think it's more sheer arrogance and superiority. Thinks she's better than the rest of us."

"You just don't like her," I point out. "You think she's a threat."

"The only person close to a threat to me, is you," Hollis smiles, but not like his normal smile I've seen a lot. It's warmer, softened, even slightly friendly. "I just don't like or Caspian or Logan or Beauty for various reasons. But I like you, Andi. You seem different to the rest of them."

I look out at the rest of our alliance. Maybe I am different to them. But I'm not a murderer, I'm not killing for fun, I'm killing for a reason. I have a purpose. I'm not an average volunteer, unlike the others.

"Go away, Hollis," I sigh. "I need to be alone and you aren't helping."

* * *

**Surge Dalton.**

It doesn't take me long to find the station that has electronics and everything. I guess Beetee and Walden were right, about me finding something more technical to play with, to use, rather than brute force. I'm not exactly made to swing swords and maces, but I can create weapons for myself. At least, I hope I can. Walden said it was depended on what the arena was like, whether I would have easy access or not.

Then, something sparks inside me.

There's always something in the arena that could be useful. Sure, electronics and explosives are only a maybe, but besides weapons, they have darts. Blowgun darts, if I'm correct. I remember seeing them during the 50th Quarter Quell, two years ago. The girl from Twelve used them. Was able to create poison for the darts from the arena.

The gears and cogs inside my mind begin to churn, to work, to create the many possibilities and ideas I have. Possibly, my arena could have the same. Could have some sort of poison, some sort of flammable liquid, something I could invent. Create. Darts would be good, though. Would keep me away from the tributes and take them down easily. But poison might not be all that available, though. That's the problem. It's my best bet, and frankly, it's not a safe bet.

I look around, noticing Aimee with the boys from Ten and Five, talking quietly with each other. A band of little kids. Their sizes would be good to use. Could hide, actually, avoid weapons a lot easier by ducking and dodging. Might even be speedy. Then, a small knife and they should be okay.

"They've banded together," I turn around, noticing the girl from Five, looking slightly awkward. "Our district partners. Paired together with the kids from Ten."

I nod, unable to find words. I'm not really made to converse with other people. I'm the loner, on my own, away from people, not interacting with them. When Five understands I'm not replying quickly, she sighs, defeated.

"I was wondering if I could come to you," Five forces a smile. "I don't have anyone else. Not that I was planning to partner with Bena, anyway, considering he's only little. But I kinda don't want to be alone and everyone looks to be getting an ally... Except you."

"Okay," I manage to say. "Sure."

"Great," Five smiles. "I'm Modessa, by the way."

"Surge."

"Nice to meet you," Modessa steps forward, though I can sense she's still rather uncomfortable with being around me. Maybe she doesn't like people too much. "What can you do?"

I don't say anything, except gesture to the pieces in front of me by pointing. Modessa nods curtly. "Brainiac."

"Yes."

"You don't speak a lot," Modessa raises an eyebrow. "You're really quiet or uncomfortable. It's okay, I'm not exactly that great of a person to be with. I'm sorry your now stuck with someone as lame as me."

"Don't be."

Modessa doesn't say anything, except step forward a little more, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, before picking up a piece of wire. But I don't want wires. I want darts, poison. Explosives won't help me, but poison will.

* * *

**Misty Liu.**

I watch as Beauty takes aim, firing her arrow, which narrowly misses the dead centre. A good shot, but not perfect. She turns my way, flashes her smile, before disappearing off to Logan, who in all honesty, doesn't look too happy about her arrival. Andromeda keeps away from everyone else, I've noticed that. She likes to be on her own, yet, Hollis seems to follow her like a lovesick, twisted puppy wanting affection and attention.

And then there's Caspian, not far from me, swinging a sword.

"Come battle with me," Caspian grins. "I promise to go easy."

So cheerful. Caspian isn't like a normal Career. Then again, I think they have an odd bunch for Careers this year. Logan, who seems confused and not quite up to the challenge. Like he didn't expect it. Then there's Beauty, full of arrogance and, well, beauty. Andromeda whose a loner, hating the company whilst Hollis seems to be the only real sick and twisted Career here, infatuated with Andromeda.

Then there's Caspian, so childlike and friendly. And me, a girl who doesn't want to be involved with all the drama and hassle.

Not sickening at all. I guarantee the sponsors are disappointed. Usually, they get Careers who indulge in the ability to kill without consequence. Yet, this year, they ended up getting a bunch of misfits who, in all honesty, don't seem too focused on killing, but rather winning.

"Sure," I finally reply to Caspian. "I've never really fought with a sword."

"It's not hard," Caspian smirks. "Well, not to me, anyway. I think it's rather easy."

He raises his sword up, whilst I grab mine. I don't even know if we're allowed to train together. I thought it was against the rules. But obviously, Caspian doesn't care. I don't think he really cares about the rules and restrictions and expectations that surround being a tribute. He just wants to have fun. I lift it up, Caspian nods and we bring them together. In a second, I hear the smash of metal.

"Not bad," Caspian smiles as he jabs slashes again, catching my sword. "You could be as good as me one day."

"I should teach you about tridents after."

"I'd like that," Caspian grins. "Then, nets. Because you know, Four and nets are like, mandatory."

He slashes again, I counter, metal rings through the air. Then, Caspian stops, holding his hand up.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Switching hands," Caspian throws the sword in the air, catching it in his left hand. "I like fair fights. Since you're relatively new at this, I'll dumb myself down, if you will. Even things out."

"That won't do you good in the arena," I point out. "People will take advantage of that."

He knows I mean Hollis. He gives a curt nod, looking quickly at Hollis before looking back. "I'm cool with that. I have enough dignity and honour."

"And I respect you for that," I smile as much as I can. "Now, lets continue, oh great swordsman."

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

"So we're really working together?" Rudy asks, happy.

I nod whilst Aimee smiles. "Of course. We can stick together."

"I like that idea," Rudy beams. "Don't you, Tanna?"

Tanna shrugs, rolling her eyes. "Doesn't bother me either way, to be perfectly honest."

Something isn't right about her. I can tell that straightaway, just by the way she's standing and the way she treats Rudy. She wouldn't give him the time of day, if he weren't from Ten, trapped together. When it concerns me and Aimee, I can still tell Tanna would rather be somewhere, anywhere else, then talking to children. It annoys me, frankly.

"You can be nicer," I point out, without thinking. Just like Modessa. When Tanna looks at me with her cold eyes, I realise I need to say it. It's too late. "I mean, if we're working together, we need to actually work together, rather than against each other."

Aimee cowers back, whilst Rudy looks slightly confused.

"Whatever." Tanna finally responds.

She walks away, still clutching her knife, leaving us as a threesome. Rudy looks back from Tanna to Aimee and then, finally, at me. He gulps, looking responsible.

"I'm sorry, s-she can be like that," Rudy admits. "But she is a good person. At least, I think she is. She doesn't seem too mean."

That's where me and Rudy have split differences. I mean, in my opinion, I doubt I would have chosen to work with anyone. I just don't have the trust for that. With a Head Peacekeeper as your father, it's kinda hard to make friends. The ones that do bother... Usually have hidden motives. I've learned not to trust as easily anymore. It was only the fact that Rudy found Aimee and then found me, I couldn't say no.

Rudy practically begged, whilst Aimee looked hurt if I turned it down.

Something about them both just remind of the kind of people I would loved to have as friends back in Five. Both seem genuine, kind and everything. I guess, in the end, that moment of madness pushed away my suspicions. As long as they don't break through again, it should be an okay alliance.

"What do you want to try?" Rudy asks extremely peppy.

"We can try weapons," I suggest. "Or split up and try different things. I don't know. Tanna clearly wants to attack things."

"Again, she's like that," Rudy frowns. "Okay then, well, I'll go with Tanna and try weapons again, you guys try survival?"

Aimee nods for the both of us, slipping her hand gently into mine. "Sure thing, Rudy."

Rudy grins, running off over Tanna, who glares before pushing him away and walking once more. Definitely something up with her. Defientely the type to turn against us when we least expect it. And yeah, not gonna lie, that worries me.

* * *

**Elle Cludiant.**

"Here you go," The guy at the station says as he hands me a thin spear. "Sure you don't want something heavier?"

I shake my head. "This'll do. I think it's for the best."

Everyone seems to pair up quickly. Surprising, actually, because I always assumed alliances weren't that great in many circumstances. That it just ended in more pain. I wouldn't have minded someone, though, just maybe one person. But it seems everyone has already picked someone, pulled together, working together. Careers. The youngsters from Three, Five and Ten. Boys. Girls. The mix match of people leftover.

I stop, lining myself up with the dummy in front. No-one would expect a shy, quiet girl from Six to have been trained slightly. But my family always was safe, wanted to be prepared. It's been a while, but I should be better than most.

The spear shudders as it leaves my hand, shaking as it flies through the air. It lands, barely, wiggling before coming to a halt.

"Not bad," I whisper to myself. "Just need to get back in the swing of things."

Then, I notice her from Seven, Cypress I think, coming towards me with a smirk on her face. "You're Elle, right?"

"Yeah," I mumble. "Elle Cludiant."

"I already know," Cypress smirks. "I saw your reaping. Your district partner is interesting. Kinda stole the limelight a little."

I simply nod, unable to find anything to say. Bridge did indeed still the attention, and really, it doesn't bother me. It's not like I want that one moment to define me for the remainder of my life, whether I come walking out or not. Then, it dawns on me what Cypress actually wants. Partners. She wants to make an ally. Since, actually, I haven't seen her find someone else.

"So obviously, as you've probably guessed, I was wondering whether you wanted to ally up, seeing as we're both clearly threats to the Careers."

That catches my attention. "Why don't you ask to join them?"

Cypress laughs at that, placing her hand on my shoulder casually. "I don't like Careers. I want them dead, quickly, so it's better to find someone who feels the same."

"How do you know I do?"

"I can see it written on your face," Cypress points out. "You don't like them. I can tell. You seem the type that would be kind to everyone else, but stomp over any of the Careers at any given opportunity."

She's right at that. I would. I just... I didn't expect someone to come to me for being an ally. "Sure."

"Perfect," Cypress beams. "Right then, well, lets get training, shall we?"

I nod, following Cypress back to collect her axe, but I stay back. I want someone, but really, I can't see any reason for someone to come to me. Something is up her sleeve, something will happen... I'll just have to be careful, since I'd rather have some help, then none at all.

* * *

**Corvus Shade.**

I watch as Isaac strikes the dummy with his hand-axe, before sighing, stepping back. No real confidence in himself. Ty offers a soft smile, stepping up and pointing at the spot in the dummy that is dented. That makes Isaac perk up a little, before dropping again.

"Honestly, Isaac, it was great," Ty offers. "Really good."

Isaac doesn't reply, but instead, pats Ty's shoulder before walking over to me. I don't know how I feel about either of them. Isaac has the age and size on his side, he's threatening, if he doesn't talk or actually look at anyone. Ty has a great mind on his shoulders, but besides that, there isn't much for me. Which means not a lot for me, either. But they found me and I guess, since it looks like everyone is going in with someone, that I need someone as well.

"What can you do, Corvus?" Ty asks from the other side.

I offer a smile. "Secret."

Isaac raises an eyebrow at that, searching the area before looking at me more curious. Instead, I give him my best poker face and nod, showing him that I mean it. Everything needs to be hidden. That's my best bet. Even if it means keeping it from my allies.

"Are you going to do anything, Ty?"

Ty frowns, looking idle for a moment. "I don't really... I don't really have anything great to do."

"You're smart," I say out loud. "Surely there must be something under your belt."

"Besides my mind, nothing. I'm good at remembering things, not physical fighting."

"Try traps then," Isaac suggests. "That would be good."

"Suppose so," Ty shrugs. "I thought I'd just provide the brains and you guys the brawn."

That makes me laugh. Ty, such a wonderful, different person. Even if he doesn't have the odds on his side, he still bests the others with something they'd never guess. He has something hidden, and in a sense, I need that as well.

"But if we're not there," Isaac grimaces, but it's more subtle. "If we're not around, you need something."

That doesn't help poor Ty, who only shrugs again, before walking off towards one of the stations. Isaac just stares blankly at the ground, before going straight back towards the dummy, leaving me on my own. Not the greatest of alliances, I guess. Ty and his brains. Isaac and his potential strength.

And then me.

Me and my...?

* * *

**Ty Herring.**

I pick up the netting, wrapping around my hands, preparing to loop them.

"Just watch me," The trainer says, forming a net within seconds. "Now, you have a try."

I close my eyes for a second, tracing the steps he took to make something so easy yet complicated. My fingers work as I continue to think, and by the time I've opened my eyes, I can see the net, perfectly made, if not better than the actual trainer's net. I look up at him, but he smiles, putting his down and taking mine from me. He inspects it with a careful eye, before handing it back, grinning.

"Impressive."

I smile. "Thank you."

He takes a moment, before dipping under the counter and pulling forth some vines. "Here you go, try making a net from these."

"Can you go first?" I ask politely. "I need to watch someone else first."

"Sure thing."

He repeats his actions, taking the stalks and creating yet again, another net. When he hands it back to me, I close my eyes and repeat the pattern. Though this time, I can feel someone next to me. When I open my eyes, I notice Rowen, standing next to me with a soft smile, her one eye staring down at the net. I've always wanted to ask her about her eye, to find out why she is blind.

"Well done, Ty," Rowen smiles. "That's really good."

"Photographic memory," I brag. "I can do nearly anything, if I got to watch someone first."

"Have you tried weaponry?" Rowen asks.

"No," I admit. "I haven't got round to it. Even if I did, I wouldn't be good enough."

Rowen takes a moment to think, before smiling again. "You said you have a brilliant memory. Get someone to go first on that?"

Yeah. She has a point there. I smile, placing the net down and turning around, looking at the dummies for practice. Except, Isaac looks even more depressed than normal, whilst Corvus has disappeared, almost like a ghost. It takes a moment to realise that Bridge Campbell, from District Six, the boy who screamed during his reaping, looking at me with fiery eyes.

"Ignore him." Rowen suggests.

"He's your ally, though, right?"

Rowen shrugs. "I guess so. Time will tell, sweetheart. Try, okay?"

I nod, gaining a kiss to the cheek from her. "Okay, you too."

* * *

**Komara Grey.**

Maybelle looks out at the other people, staring intently. She does that a lot, I've notice. Just watching, from a distance, studying everything they do. For a little girl, she's actually quite clever. She could learn from them, learn their weaknesses and strengths, learn how to exploit them to the best of her ability. Quite interesting and perfect, actually.

"You okay?"

I turn around to Ember, who stands there, crossing her arms and a smile on her face. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Ember nods. "If you're sure..."

"Perfectly."

"Maybelle is brilliant, isn't she?"

"Yeah, she's something..." I raise an eyebrow. "I mean, definitely mysterious."

"Could say the same about you."

"That's true, I guess," I smile slightly. "And for you, also, Ember."

Ember grins, stepping past me without a word towards Maybelle. She stops, manages to pull Maybelle out of her trance, before ushering her off to another station to try something else. I stay still, looking around, finding Isaac. He notices me, offers that awkward, totally not friendly smile before going back to his business. Maybe I should be more like Maybelle? Just stare at everyone, watching, understanding.

Could be an advantage.

Then, before I know it, Maybelle and Ember are back.

"I was actually wondering," Ember asks curiously. "What do you actually do? I mean, I've not seen you use a weapon yet."

I smirk. "My weapon is by far the best around here, I'm guessing. Maybe, if you're lucky, I'll show you both."

"Think it would be helpful," Ember manages a wry smile. "Ally."

"Well come on then," I smirk. "Ally."

* * *

**Tanna Hines.**

"Go away, Rudy, for the last time."

But, Rudy doesn't. He stands there, motionless, staring at me with his impossibly big eyes. How did I end up with someone like him? A brat. A whiny, annoying, smothering brat. Anyone else would have been better. Her from Three, yeah, that would have been okay. Boy from Five as well. Or better yet, I bet the little girl from Eleven would make a better partner compared to Rudy. At least she doesn't speak.

"I just want to help," Rudy pesters. "Please, Tanna, let me help."

"Help with what exactly?"

"Train," Rudy offers. "I might be small, but I can help."

"I have no idea what you are actually talking about," I sigh. "You can't help, unless you want to be the dummy I cut."

Rudy gasps, covering his mouth with his hand, before taking a deep breath and standing straighter than normal. "I'm not scared of you."

"But you should be," I whisper. "You should be terrified, Rudy."

"But I'm not."

I scoff, walking away from a determined and defiant Rudy. Instead, though, he grabs my shoulder, spinning me around pretty fast. For such a little boy, he has good upper body strength. I look at him, slightly taken back, whilst Rudy breaths heavily and ragged.

"I said, let me help." Rudy stands firm.

"And as I keep telling you, you can't help. I have no idea what you actually want from me."

Rudy stays quiet for a moment, as if he's mustering up as much courage as possible. Then, he lets out a shaky breath, before clenching his fists and squeezing his eyes shut. "I just want to be friends..."

That catches me by surprise. Because really, Rudy is immature as fuck, but I never would have thought of him as stupid. Well, stupid enough to try and make friends with someone like me. The infamous girl from Ten, yet, nobody actually knows why. They just know about my family, my farm, the number of cows that die and the mysterious disappearing act my sister made. When I look up, Rudy offers an awkward but shy smile.

"Never friends," I point out. "Allies. And nothing more, so don't get your hopes up."

That gains a huge grin from the twit. "Thank you, Tanny!"

"No nicknames, either."

But that doesn't deter Rudy's smile. He just offers a cheesy thumbs up, before running off towards Three and Five, looking idly at the stations they've chosen. When he arrives, Five turns around, a simple fire sparking in his eyes. He's going to be the one to watch out for, I can tell.

He just doesn't realise who he's messing with.

* * *

**Maybelle Kailan.**

I sit at the table, watching Basil and Seeder talk, Chaff sitting opposite me, silent, just because I haven't said much to him. I take a bite of my dinner, still watching as Seeder shows Basil a good technique for being able to use a knife up close, without sustaining damage at all.

"Are you enjoying your food, May?" Chaff asks.

I look at him, nodding, taking another bite.

"Are you sure? You need any more or offer stuff?"

"No thank you," I offer a tiny smile. "I'm fine."

"As I said, May, I'm here to help as much as possible. I'm here to make sure you do brilliantly and that if you're struggling, you actually have help."

I simply nod again, choosing not to speak. No real point. Not that I don't want to speak, I just... I just don't know if I should. I don't even know if Chaff is someone that I can fully trust. He's kind, gentle and polite, but that doesn't help me in trusting him. Same goes for Komara and Ember. Ember is like my sister, Poplyn, the way she's like a mother but so young. Caring but strict. Whereas Komara... I'm not too sure about her yet.

"So, Basil told Seeder who passed the message along," Chaff starts. "That you have a little alliance? Girls from Nine and Twelve?"

I nod. "Yes."

"Do you like them?"

I shrug.

"How are you holding up? Practice okay? Found a good enough weapon to use? Did you try the slingshot, like I suggested?"

"Yes," I smile once more. "It's great."

"I'm glad," Chaff beams. "I want you to try your hardest, May, don't give up just yet, will you?"

"No."

"Good."

Then, the silence falls. I've never been one to keep a conversation up with other people. Chaff gets the message, getting up and going to join Seeder and Basil, who've retreated from their discussion. I just watch from the sidelines, observing them. Basil offers a smile, which I can't quite share back. But, he's trying. They're all trying. But for how long? How long will I actually have left, for people to try and break my silence?

* * *

**Ravi Coal.**

"Are you doing okay?"

I look over at Ember, a mature smile on her lips. I've never really liked Ember, knew her and yeah, can definitely say I don't like her that much. She's always been far too mature, far too grown up for her age. It makes her look ridiculous, really. She thinks she's better than every other person, but she's not.

"Fine," I say bluntly. "You?"

"Yeah, we're doing okay, actually. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that's all. I mean, even if we're not allies, it'd be nice to know that you are actually fine and not struggling."

I scoff. "Really? Because in case you forgot, Ember, only one kid lives and it isn't going to be you."

When the words leave my mouth, I regret it. Not really, I did mean it, just not as harsh as it came out. I can see Ember's eyebrows raise, before she nods and offers a tight smile. "Think what you want. I'm just not letting them take away the last thing I have that makes me me; my heart."

The elevator doors swing open, Ember quickly stomping off. I step out after her, ignoring Haymitch as he makes another druken remark from the couch.

"Ember, I didn't mean it like that!"

Ember stops, spinning around quickly, face flushed. "No, you did Ravi. You meant every single word. You're right, only one kid lives, you're right, maybe I might not be that one kid. But at least I'm going down a good person. I'm going to die as someone who didn't let them take away my soul, my being. I'm going to die as me, with no regrets whatsoever."

That stuns me. I see the tears prick at her eyes, before sliding down silently.

"I am sorry," I barely mumble. "Y-You have just as good chance as me."

"No I don't," Ember laughs dryly. "I don't have a good chance... And I'm okay with that. Because for me, I know that I'm dying a good person. There are other kids out there, Ravi, small, young children, who haven't got to live their lives. I might not have had the best life, but I've never let it bring me down. So don't you dare say that I have no chance, you have no right to remind me. You just have to remember that you, you don't have a great chance either."

I just stand there, blinking, looking at Ember as she breathes rapidly, still silently crying. I put my hand out, but Ember pulls back, like I'm made of fire.

"Don't."

"I'm so-"

"Don't," Ember shakes her head, before forcing a smile. "I'm going to bed. Next time, I'll try not to care about you at all."

She opens her door, steps in and slams it behind her. For a moment, I'm frozen in place, unable to move. Then, I hear the hoarse laughter coming from the main area, slurred and far too loud.

"Well done kid," Haymitch booms. "You're perfect material for a mentor!"

I ignore his comment, going to my own room. Maybe Ember is right, maybe I have just as much chance as she does. Maybe even less. Because after all, since Haymitch and Arlo, when have the odds been in Twelve's favour?

Yeah, exactly.

* * *

**Disenchanted by My Chemical Romance.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place.**

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**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

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**I do plan on creating another SYOT soon, so... If you wanna enter that, keep an eye out for moi!**

**If you wanna suggest some songs for chapters within the arena? Go ahead! Points will be awarded for that, also, as long as I haven't used them in either this SYOT or _Nowhere To Hide_.**


	6. Do It Or Die

_Let's burn the town, until we all fall down._  
_My karmas crowned the king of endless stance._  
_Slaughtered inside, the daughter you can't hide. _

_Pray for your life before you pray for mine._

_The way she takes a bullet always takes a bite out of her,_  
_The way she takes a bullet always takes a bite out of her._  
_Do it do it or die,_  
_Do it do it or die, _  
_Whoa!_  
_Might be something in mind,_  
_Do it do it or die._

* * *

**Beauty D'Avanzo.**

"_So_, is everybody ready?" I grin, looking at everyone around the small, metallic table.

Nobody responds though. Because really, nobody is fun. Logan looks at me, but keeps silent. Whereas Hollis, well Hollis, I can always see that glint in his eye. That little sign that tells me he take me out if I wasn't careful. Oh, but he'd need to get close with that little mace of his to actually attack me. I don't need to get close. I can attack, from far. I might not be the most perfect shot ever, but I never fully miss a target.

I _always_ hit something.

"I'm perfectly ready," Misty finally speaks up. "I think the most important thing is to show all-around skill, rather than just weapons."

I scoff. "Yeah, because clearly they don't care if we can't fight. They just want to see us make _pretty_ nets."

Misty doesn't flinch at my remark, though. She stays still, calm and collected. "Well, our scores will prove the better point."

After her words appear a small smile. I smirk, knowing full well that I could take her on, as well. Actually, I could kill them all. Logan, no problem. Hollis, Caspian and Misty, easily. Andromeda is the only one that proves the slightest bit of trouble, since her trademark weapon doesn't need close proximities. But how well can she aim those pretty little knives of hers?

"Logan Voss, District One!"

I look at the attendant, seeing Logan get up out the corner of my eye. He doesn't say anything to anyone. Just walks off, the usual conflicted face plastered on no doubt.

When he's fully gone, I turn to the others.

"_So_ now that our 'leader' is gone," I smile my devilish, perfect smile. "We should discuss how we're going to get _rid_ of him."

A short silence. Then, Hollis speaks up. "How about we discuss why we're keeping _you_ around before going in?"

I register Andromeda's snarky smile, before folding my arms. "I'm just saying. Logan clearly isn't up to the challenge in hand. If we're going to be a team, the best Careers ever seen in the games, we should have a more constructed leader. Someone who doesn't look like he's going to _cry_ every second."

Caspian and Misty are completely out of the conversation, that much is obvious. Andromeda isn't really listening, but I can tell she's waiting for Hollis to reply.

"When it's his time, he'll die," Hollis says bluntly. "Same goes for you. _End_ of discussion."

I don't respond, instead smirking and leaning against the chair, waiting for my time. Oh well. Enemies are always a bonus. And the best thing is, enemies don't scare me. I look at Hollis one last time, not losing focus one tiny bit.

* * *

**Hollis Brood.**

The minute Beauty is gone, the tension rises dramatically. Misty and Caspian engage in a small, one-worded conversation, as if they have their own code. A perfect district pair, compared to Beauty and Logan, who are two different sides of threatening, and me and Andromeda, who... Well, I'm not quite sure where we stand. Andromeda seems to have a habit of being calm, maybe even slightly vulnerable, Andromeda. Then she changes to darker, threatening Andromeda.

Either way, both girls turn me on, at the very least.

"Are you going to be fine with _them_?" I ask Andromeda quietly, and much softer than I expected I was capable of.

Andromeda shrugs. "Well I like them more than _you_, so I should be great."

"You don't mean that."

Calm Andromeda stays silent. Then, click. Dark Andromeda appears. "Maybe I do and maybe I don't. You'll never know the answer because I will be hearing your cannon and mine will never, _ever_ appear. Got it?"

I smile and once again, I'm surprised it isn't hardened and cold. Guess Andromeda pulls some goods things from me then. "As I said, you _don't_ mean that."

Andromeda just shrugs, crossing her arms and looking away, at neither me or the Four dream pair. I sit still for a moment, before standing up, deciding I need to at least move a little, flex everything before I finally can perform the best as possible. I pass the table containing both the girls from Six or Seven, where I catch the small glint of a dark smile from Seven. But as I pass her and carry on walking, I hear footsteps behind me.

Only when I turn around, do I notice Seven.

"What do _you_ want?" I spit.

She just smiles, reminding myself of me. Confident. Arrogant. Cocky. "Nothing really. Just wanted to see if you worth being an ally with or not."

"See if I'm _worth_ it?" That definitely doesn't sit me. The bitch.

"We'll see about your score," Seven smirks. "If you're good enough, I _could_ be your ally. We'll see. Good luck.

But as I prepare to fight back with something to really shut her down, I hear my name get called. She saunters off, proud of her words. In the end, I just walk away, heading into the room where the Gamemakers sit before me, like a pack of oversized, ego-boosted judges, waiting on my sentence.

"You may begin," The nearest one to me says, looking at a small clipboard in his hand. "Hollis Brood."

I give a curt nod, before walking over to the maces, collecting the largest but easiest to handle. It feels nice in my head. Cool wood, smooth but rough against my skin. I take a moment to calm myself. Need to give everything I've got. Need to do everything possible. Have to impress Marcia, even if I dislike her to the moon and back.

And in my moment of thoughts, I batter the dummy into fluff, twirling and flying around gracefully but powerful. When I open my eyes, I can't fight the smile. Shredded. Perfection.

That is sure to be _gold_, no doubt.

* * *

**Aimee Wyre.**

By the time I walk into the room, the Gamemakers already look bored. Beetee warned me about this, though. He told me that there would be a possibility that the Careers would suck all potential of shining away. Maybe Surge felt the same.

I stop and stand in front of the men, who give a nod silently, as they indulge in some food.

Turning, I see the first station. Traps. Not the best thing to do, but that's all I have on my shoulders.

It doesn't take long to create something the first time, but the second I time, I struggle. When I look over my shoulder, I can see the watchful eyes, clearly ashamed and judging my mistake. That'll cost me. Probably not even a 2 anymore. I sigh, biting back the tears as I try again. But as they slide silently down my face, I mess up again. Never good under pressure. Imagine me in the arena. I have _no_ hope. No hope whatsoever, anymore.

"You may stop," the Head Gamemaker announces. "Please, leave."

I nod, biting onto my lip and quickly disappearing into the elevator. The ride is quiet. I need quiet right now. When the doors open, I'm surprised to not see anyone. _No-one_ at all. Surge went before me, so he should be up here... But I've learned that talking to him, even for comfort, is pointless. No disrespect to him... Surge just isn't the talkative type, and right now, I need that. I need _someone_ to support me.

I glance around the room, even looking for Beetee. Even Walden, perhaps.

Instead I'm met with furniture, cold floors and no real compassion.

Giving up, I go back to my room, biting back the bitter tears that stream my face. Alone. Like I've always been, like I'm always going to be, and soon after, I guess that's everything.

Right now, all I want is Bena and Rudy. My two, small rocks that make me feel happy. Curling up under the covers, I give up. Alone. Yeah, sounds about right for Aimee Wyre.

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

I sit at the table, tapping away against the mahogany, waiting for Misty. I just wanna ask her how she did. I just want to know if she done okay. If she done everything she possibly could, just so I know she's okay. That they won't hurt her. I don't really care too much about my own score, I know I did absolutely fantastic, but I don't know about Mist.

On cue, the doors to the elevator slide open, revealing her with a bright, small smile.

"Waiting for me?" Misty raises an eyebrow.

I nod sheepishly. "I _guess_. I just want to know how you did, if you used any swords, like I suggested."

"I used what I'm best at," Misty counters. "Tridents and nets. Did _you_ use any of that?"

I stand up, poking out my chest just a little and standing tall. "Actually, I did. I used swords, tridents, nets and I even showed them that I can use two swords at once."

"Impressive."

"I'd _like_ to think so," I smirk. "How do you think the others did?"

Misty sits at the table, ignoring both Lagoon and Coral on the couches, in their own world. Instead, she pours herself a glass of water, sips at it, places it down and smiles, gesturing for me to sit opposite her. Always the way with Misty. Silent and deadly, I guess you could say. Like a python, with it's hidden poison.

"Well?"

"I think Logan is in over his head, clearly he didn't think about the overly eager Careers wanting his head. I feel bad, actually."

I push back a laugh. I never knew she could be quite so... _Bitchy_, in a weird, dry sense. "And the others?"

"Beauty is arrogant, Hollis cold and finally Andromeda is, well... I respect her enough to leave her alone. She's more determined then she lets on, Casp."

"I like your thinking," I wink. "But, what do you think about that Caspian kid then?"

She pauses for a second, before smirking and taking another sip of water. "Well, I think he's childish. A little bit obnoxious. Confident. Good battler, but too quick and rash. A little bit of everything, really. I haven't quite worked you out so easily like the others."

"What can I say, I'm a man of _many_ talents." I wink again.

Misty raises from her chair, folding her arms, giving a curt nod. "Your score will tell _otherwise_, my dear Caspian."

* * *

**Modessa Lilian.**

It doesn't take me long to sink into my chair, pretty defeated. I tried my hardest. I done what I had to do. But those eyes, all looking at me, inspecting me, judging me... I couldn't not feel conscious. They could see it. They could see my stomach and how large I am. They were watching, silently mocking me. Tears pepper my eyes, my hand instinctively going to my stomach, giving it a soft pat.

Bena no doubt did good. I mean, his father being the Head Peacekeeper of Five... He _must_ get some special treatment.

Aster and Cable are probably treating him more special than me, just so they can avoid Ruly's harsh tactics when they return and I don't.

The door slowly opens up, revealing Bena. He stands there, looking at me, making me feel just as conscious as when those buffoons were looking at me. Then, he moves to the couch, taking a seat and sighing. He has his alliance, I have mine.

Bena opens his mouth to speak, but quickly closes it. I don't even go to respond. I have nothing against the boy, he's probably better than me by a billion anyway, but a conversation between us just isn't going to happen. We're far too different.

I'm conscious, deflated, self-loathing whilst Bena seems suspcious, impatient and rash.

He's quick to do something whilst I've _already_ given up.

But the silence is short lived when Aster walks in. He nods and smiles at Bena, though I have no idea if Bena responds, before sitting down near me.

"Do well?"

I shrug. "Probably not."

"No self-encouragement," Aster tuts. "I think you should be a little bit more confident, 'Dessa. You probably done a lot better than more kids here."

"_Doubt_ it," I respond icy. "Everyone has talent. I have _nothing_."

"You could use your _looks_."

My heart clenches, like ice cold fingers wrapping around it, smothering my body. My looks. Is he joking? I can't fight the bitterness in my body. My body. My so-called perfect body. What everyone calls perfect but I call imperfect. I call failure.

When Aster notices my body tighten, he sighs, placing a hand to my knee which I quickly jerk away.

"I'm sorry."

"You're all _sorry_," I say quietly, but with anger, before my voice rises. "Everyone is always sorry when they see me, imperfect little Modessa."

I stand up, ignoring Aster's comment or Cable's arrival or even Bena's silence, which is the only thing I appreciate. Everyone is sorry. So damn _sorry_. But no-one is as sorry as _me_.

* * *

**Bridge Campbell.**

I grin as Polo sits down next to Elle, placing her arms on the table and looking at me. She doesn't look too impressed, but rather curious.

"Well?"

"Well _what_?"

"Well how did you do?" Polo says with a little more anger.

I smirk, copying her movement of crossing my arms on the table. "I'm not too sure. I'd like to say I done good, but seeing the Gamemakers and how smug they looked, me even throwing a few abusive words... Well, I can't see them awarding me a medal for bad behaviour now."

I can see her jaw clench, teeth grit. "You did _what_?"

"Just a _few_ abusive words. Nothing too cliche, just personally directed. If they were large, I told them. Ugly, I told them."

"Why the _fuck_ did you do that?"

"Last time I checked, someone told me to make an impression," I smile wickedly. "Is that not what you said this morning? Make an impression? Well I just did."

Her hand slaps against her forehead. To me, it looks comical. I look to Elle, though her facial expression say nothing, I can tell she's a little confused and amazed by my stunt. I would be too if it was the other way round. Yet, I just don't see Elle being the type. I have respect for her, but not enough as I do for Rowen. Elle seems too... Normal. Rowen isn't normal and me, well, I'm definitely far from being normal.

"You've just ruined your life," Polo sighs. "You know that? You've just ruined your life. If you win, you'll never be free. You've made a _huge_ mistake."

"Ruined my life? Bit dramatic Polo," I stand up, smiling. "If you knew me before, if you knew me life, then you'd understand I was born ruined. My life was ruined from the minute I took my first breath. Now... Now I've learned to enjoy myself no matter what."

I walk around the table, past Elle, who places a hand on my arm. I don't respond, but I guess this is our sign of respect or comfort. Maybe she's heard what happened.

Who knows.

"Oh, Polo?" I stop, craning my head around to see her look at me. "Think you should talk to Vectra. Then maybe you'd understand more than your _little_ brain can handle."

* * *

**Cypress Nelson.**

"It's ready," Blight whispers. "Did everything go to plan?"

I nod. "Obviously."

Blight stands up and I follow, joining both Oakley and Corvus already on the couch. Corvus nods curtly, whilst Oakley offers a more suspicious smile at me. Maybe Blight let him in on my plan? Who knows. Though if Blight tells me not to tell anyone, then he should do the same. Otherwise it's just not that fair.

The TV flashes on, Cludius Templesmith grinning, looking the same age as he has always done. Capitol citizens seem to be like that a lot, really.

I tune out of his talking, the general boring chit-chat before the scores actually come on, making more sense. I hope Blight was right about joining the Careers. I had to play it cool. Elusive. Make them want _me_, not the other way around. Apparently, during the bloodbath, that'll tell whether they want me or not. I hope they do. Something about Elle just doesn't seem too loyal.

The first picture up is Logan, the one who always looks a little lost. Everyone says that. They're right. Underneath his picture and name is a bright red 9, dancing wildly. I look to Blight, who nods with a hidden smirk. Beauty is next. Don't know why I _bothered_ to learn her name, but it stuck compared to the others. She matches her partner's 9, which surprises me. Almost seemed like an airhead.

Two comes up next, the boy with his murderous, emotionless expression. 10. Wouldn't have expected anything less from a trainee. Plus, I've seen him with his mace. He's not so rough and brute, but quite elegant and acrobatic with it. Andromeda comes up next and I hold my breath when I see the 12. A perfect score.

Blight's face says it all. Shit.

Surge from Three pulls an astounding 6, whilst the little girl only manages a 2.

Corvus doesn't look fazed, though more than likely, my face gives away my thoughts. Andromeda. Little miss knife thrower gets a 12.

I look back at the screen to notice the boy from Four, Caspian, pulling a 10, whilst the calm looking girl, Misty, gets a 9. All _too_ strong. I _need_ to match it. I need to.

Five manages to grab a 4 for Bena and a 5 for their _little-but-not-young_, Modessa.

I wait, knowing only one more district and Corvus before my score comes up. Needs to be really good. My life depends on it. _Literally_.

Bridge takes a 6, not so surprisingly, whilst Elle's leaves a hitch in my throat. 7. She pulled a 7.

I'm too stunned to even see Corvus' name, picture or number come up. It's only when I hear a roar of cheering, do I snap back out, only to see the twirl of black as it disappears. I wait, antsy, heart hammering. Come on. Come on.

My picture comes up. My name. My score... 8. Good, but not great. I feel my heart sink as I look to Corvus.

"What'd _you_ get?"

Corvus smiles a little darkly. "_9_."

* * *

**Rowen Knight.**

When the girl from Seven pulls an 8, her partner getting a 9, I can basically feel the hope slipping away slowly. I squeeze my eyes shut, hearing the faint, drowning noise of the cheers back in Eight. How they must love knowing I'm not going to be as great as the others. How I'm hopeless. They bullied me, and now, they'll get to watch my failure on a screen.

"Are you okay?" Ty asks meekly.

I nod, opening my eyes, a darkness clouding one side of the room, whilst my good eye shows Ty, sitting with his hands on his lap. He must be nervous. I take his hands into mine, squeezing lightly.

"Everything is fine."

Dorsey and Silk acknowledge us, but leave us alone. Ty edges a little closer, like he wants comfort. I sigh, forcing a smile.

"Roe, can I ask you a question?" Ty tilts his head. "I _promise_ that you'll only have to tell me once! I won't ask again. I can remember it."

I already know his question. I swallow thickly, before nodding. "Go ahead."

Ty stays quiet for a moment, before looking at my directly, as if inspecting me. "How come you're blind in one eye?"

The thick lump comes back to my throat. I already realise I don't want to answer it. Never before has someone actually asked me. Most people tend to know why the 'Ragdoll' is the way she is. "I was bullied a _lot_, Ty. My whole life surrounded it. And one day, they took it too far. Left me with a blinded eye and after that, I was dubbed the '_Ragdoll_'. The girl with a blind eye and many, _many_ years of bullying visible in scars."

Again, I don't realise the tears rolling down until Ty gently swipes one away.

"They obviously didn't know what an amazing person you are," Ty smiles. "_Their_ loss."

"That's why I was heckled during the reaping," I smile sadly. "Guess people just _love_ to see my life is tatters."

Ty doesn't say anything. Nothing he can say would change the way I lived. If I die here, in the arena, then I wouldn't have to worry about the bullying. If I go back... I don't know how much more I could take.

For some reason, the conversation seems quick. Really quick. Like a few seconds long. Because soon enough, Ty's picture comes up, telling us he got a 4. He grins which causes me to smile.

So kind and lovely.

My picture comes up, and for some reason, I'm drawn to my blind eye. It looks... Different, in photo form. And underneath comes the bright, blood red 5.

* * *

**Isaac Eibrab.**

I wait as the tension builds for mine. Not going to be good, I can tell. It'll be lousy. I know I done awful. Ty's little pep-talk didn't help before we all sat down, either. Neither did Komara's weird little glare, where I can't tell if she's angry or what.

When I see my picture, I flinch.

A 6 isn't so bad. But I can see the obvious disappointment in Auckland's face. He grimaces, looking at Barley who looks almost _far_ too cheerful and happy at my failure.

Komara nods, which I return.

I knew it would be awful. That much was obvious. I done everything I could. I tried traps, but failed. Survival aids, but failed. Weapons. My hand-axe, which didn't go so well either. Corvus told me to use my height and weight and age to my advantage. And I still managed to screw that up.

I can feel my body falling, sinking, losing the fight to be optimistic.

"Cheer up," Auckland says, trying to look happier. "You done better than most."

I shrug. "You would say that. You're _trying_ to cheer me up."

"I'm not going to do anything. If you want to cheer up, do so. I'm simply suggesting that by doing so, you could do better. Being a downer never got _anyone_ anywhere."

"What a pep talk."

"I'm serious," Auckland frowns. "You have all the assets to be intimidating."

I see Komara's picture come up, a bright red 6... _6_? Komara only got a 6? I look over at her, seeing her composed and unfazed. Barley, on the other hand, loses it and freaks out a little.

"Be like that?" I ask, pointing to Barley.

Auckland rolls his eyes. "Less dramatic. But yes. You have _everything_ to make you a potential threat, even for the Careers. Do something about it. Show them that you are still a player."

Player. Because that's what I am. A player, in a game, fighting for survival. Fighting rules out of my control. Everything that could be wrong is wrong. I have no idea how to do it. I'm not made for this. Auckland sighs, standing up and giving me a look that screams 'grow up'.

Komara catches on, smiles and stands up, ignoring Barley and walking out of the room. From the corner of my eye, I can see the little guy from Ten, Rudy, pulling a 3.

Barley looks at me coldly. "I hope you're _happy_."

"Just _peachy_."

* * *

**Rudy Millwater.**

"Rudy, stop bouncing up and down," Buttercup suggests. "Seriously, Rudy, stop it."

I come to a halt, looking at Buttercup, then Tanna and Jederoe. None look too pleased. But I'm happy. I pulled a _3_! I never thought that would happen. Tanna has her skills in weaponry, Bena got a 4 which is really good and I'm sure Aimee is holding something back, to only go and get a 2 like that.

Buttercup smiles. "I understand you're happy, sweetheart, but you do need to calm down a little."

"I know," I nod. "You're going to do _so_ well, Tanna, I know it!"

Tanna grunts a little, as if she doesn't believe me. But I know she'll do brilliantly. Of course she will. Tanna is brilliant with knives.

Her picture soon comes up on the screen, followed by a bright 6. I look to Tanna, trying to force my smile away as I see her perk up a little, dark smile plastered on her face. Jederoe nods, taking a deep swig of his alcohol, before patting Tanna on the back sluggishly.

"Well done Tanna," Buttercup offers. "That was brilliant."

"Of course it was." Tanna responds.

We sit there, awkwardly, bathing in the aftermath of our results. I still think I done brilliant. Obviously, me running at the dummies and tackling them to the floor showed I had potential. Though when I tried the traps, it came out badly. But oh well! A 3 is still better than I could have imagined. Buttercup did tell me not to get my hopes up. And I'm glad I listened to her, because now, I never would have assumed how amazing it would be.

"Rudy, you're bouncing again."

I snap out my happiness, slowing the bouncing again, looking at Tanna, who scoffs before getting up.

"I'm going to bed now."

It doesn't take me long to jump up from my seat, rushing over and throwing myself at Tanna, arms wide and embracing her in a hug. She flinches, before shrugging me out of the hold.

"I said we're not friends," Tanna points out. "Add no hugging to the list."

"_No_ hugging, _no_ nicknames, _no_ friends. Got it?"

She looks down at me for a moment, before walking away. I smile, sighing, sitting back down again next to Buttercup.

"I think she likes me."

Buttercup pauses for a moment. "Be careful, okay? Tanna might not be all she seems. Don't get _too_ attached. I think you and Tanna have very different ideas on how you see your alliance."

I nod, though I don't understand. I'm sure Tanna sees our alliance just like I do. Friends, working together.

* * *

**Basil Larkspur.**

When I see my picture come up, I hold steady, feeling Seeder sneaking her hand into mine.

"Don't worry. You know you done good, just be confident." Seeder whispers.

I suppose she's right. If the little Ten girl can pull a 6, then I should be able to pull the same, if not higher, easily. I admit, I'm not the best fighter. But surely I can do better. Even the strong looking guy from Nine got a 6, and frankly, I expected more from someone the same age as me. He couldn't really use the hand-axe in training, but then again, it could all have been a decoy, to hide his real abilities.

A bright red 7 dances underneath my picture, lightening my mood.

I sigh, relieved. Seeder slips her hand out, slapping it down on my back, happily.

"Well done, you," Seeder beams. "I knew you could do it, you knew you could it, so there was no need to worry."

"I guess you _were_ right," I smile, looking at Maybelle who for some reason, seems to be shrinking into the couch behind Chaff, before looking back to Seeder. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"As long as your ally isn't a disappointment, though that shouldn't matter much."

Maybelle's picture soon comes up, and it only dawns on me then that she looks younger than her age. She's 12, yet her picture makes her look only 8. If you didn't know, you'd assume their was an illegal rigging to the reaping, pushing a girl under the age limits in.

And soon follows a 3.

"Not _bad_," Chaff grins. "I told you a slingshot was your best option!"

Maybelle nods, still hiding behind Chaff's large frame. Maybe she doesn't look as pleased as I would have thought. I haven't really seen her in training, but I know she was great at the slingshot.

"Yeah, that's great sweetheart," Seeder joins in. "You should be extremely proud at your age, gaining a 3."

Once again, I see the small curls on Maybelle's head jerk, showing she's nodding. Doesn't say a thing but nod. So quiet. Shy and awkward. But friendly. I've never spoke to her, really, but she seems to sweet to be, like, a hidden murderer.

Soon enough, Ravi's picture comes up, highlighting his 5. Not bad. Seeder was right. Not a disappointment, but definitely shows the level of skill between us. I'm not even skilled. But it shows that, at the very least, Ravi wouldn't have the power to take control of our alliance and stab me in the back. Not that I think he would. But you can't ignore anything in this environment.

His partner, Ember, pops up next, pulling the same score as Ravi.

I focus in on the number, slightly confused. Ravi and Ember, same score? I surely would have thought Ravi would pull higher, just because... Well, Ember doesn't seem the type to be _great_ at combat. I've seen her from the distance. Not exactly _terrifying_.

But then again, I remind myself of the girl from Ten, same age as Maybelle. Yeah. _Definitely_ a lot of people hiding things.

* * *

**Ember Auger.**

I toss and turn in bed, trying to sleep but I just can't. I got a 5. That's not bad, I suppose. I could have done better, but then again, suggesting by Ravi's facial expression, he was none too pleased with me pulling the same score as him, when we no doubt had different tactics to approaching it. The blankets smother me, the window barely producing a breeze for me.

I just want to sleep. I can't fight away the feeling of... Feeling of what? Excitement? Sadness? Disappointment? I just can't put my finger on it.

No idea what I'm feeling.

Instead, I climb out of bed, wrapping a robe around my body and leaving the room. Water would be good. I always used to have a glass if I couldn't sleep properly. I step quietly along the floor, trying not to make a noise, though I doubt Haymitch would wake up for anything since he's in that much of an alcoholic comatosed state. But when I reach the kitchen, I'm surprised to see Ravi, sitting at the table with his head in his hands.

For some reason, despite our previous talk, I move forward quietly.

"Want to talk about it?"

Ravi's head snaps up, eyes wide and puffy. But not from crying, but probably stress. "No, not really."

I nod, still walking forward. "Talking is good, you know. Helps with getting rid of stress and unleashing the problems. Might _help_ you sleep."

"Is that why you can't sleep? Stress?"

"Yeah," I cross my arms, suddenly feeling exposed. "Well, no, I don't know what I'm thinking about really."

"You and me both."

I take the seat opposite him, covering my legs with the material. "As I said, talk about it."

"You were right," Ravi suddenly croaks. "Everything you said that night. That night I was an idiot... You were _right_. I have no chance in surviving. I don't want to die, Ember."

Suddenly, I feel extremely awkward. I never knew Ravi could be quite emotional, at times anyway. He looks at me, groaning pathetically before slapping his hands onto his head, pretty defeated. I slide my hand across, knocking his elbow.

"No-one _wants_ to die, Ravi," I soothe as easily as possible. "But it's the way the system works. Twenty-three die so one lucky kid can survive. The way it has been, the way it _always_ will be. Just know that you _aren't_ alone."

Ravi absorbs that for a moment, before sighing once more. "I suppose so. The thought is just scary, that's all. And like, I see that 5 and it's like the final nail in my coffin. It just _proves_ that I'm dead the minute the gong rings out."

"Not true," I counter. "_Nothing_ is set in stone. You can still win."

"And my winning will be your death." Ravi points out.

"Likewise," I force a smile. "But lets not think about that. After all, we have interviews to get through first."

I get up, collecting my glass of water and heading out, when I hear Ravi's chair slide backwards. I stop, turning back.

"Sleep tight, Ember." Ravi smiles awkwardly.

"Night." I reply.

I get back in bed and stop. He's right. To win, others must die. For me to go home, poor little Maybelle has to lose out, Ravi has to die, little kids _will_ perish for my life. A sour taste takes over my throat as my eyelids close, smothering me by darkness. I just don't think I'm _all_ that ready for this.

* * *

**Do It Or Die by Die Mannequin.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. ****Training Scores are now available on the blog, if you want to look.**

* * *

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**No vote can be for your tribute.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.**

* * *

**_Glasshouse_ is up and running, though it won't start until _Child's Play_ is within the arena, which in case anyone wanted to know, is the chapter after next! One more left!**

**Feel free to submit for _Glasshouse_. Rules are over there!**


	7. Fences

_You're always on display,_  
_For everyone to watch and learn from._  
_Don't you know by now,_  
_You can't turn back,_  
_Because this road is all you'll ever have._

_It's obvious that you're dying, dying,_  
_Just living proof that the camera's lying._  
_And oh oh open wide,_  
_Cause this is your night so smile,_  
_Cause you'll go out in style,_  
_You'll go out in style._

* * *

**Logan Voss.**

My hands find the pockets of my suit, before I lift it out again, only to slide them back in place and constantly repeat the action. Being nervous would be an understatement. I knew this was part of the whole thing, but I never expected it to be so terrifying in the moment. Beauty stands next to me, waiting patiently, mocking smile painted on her face.

"I hope you're prepared to dazzle the audience," Beauty smirks. "One little letdown could affect the _whole_ alliance. And we wouldn't want that, would we now?"

"_Obviously_."

"Good," Beauty spins around, blood red dress whipping with her. "Because I tell you something, Logan. You're the leader, _apparently_, and that means being the best of us all. You have to live up to that, otherwise, anyone of them could take you out in a heartbeat. Especially Hollis. I even hear he's talking about knocking you off anyway."

My eyebrows furrow, my head turning, eyes finding Hollis, standing awkwardly next to Andromeda, in a suit like mine, just completely silver.

"He wouldn't."

"Oh, but he _would_," Beauty nods her head in the direction behind me. "So would Andy and Caspian, Misty too."

I just don't believe that. Maybe Hollis and Andromeda, but definitely not Caspian and Misty. To me, it's all about the game for them. They aren't here to kill for twisted fun or the fame, they're both here for different reasons that neither seem to want to say. But that's fine. I don't expect everybody to be leaking their stories.

"Beauty D'Avanzo, you're up!"

"Watch carefully," Beauty winks. "And be dazzled."

She slips onto the stage effortlessly, beautifully, strutting in her dress as if she was on a runway. She slides onto the seat, and really, she is dazzling and well, I don't think I am. I've never been that good in front of a camera, being asked personal questions. I don't want to talk about my life, but no doubt, they've found out everything. Everything about my life, my dad, my little sister, my whole past back in One.

Soon, I listen back into Beauty's talk with Caesar, knowing that it must be going well, since all I can hear is whistles and cheers, claps and callings.

"So Beauty," Caesar smirks. "The big question we have to know is, do you think you have what it takes to win?"

Beauty turns to the crowd, raising her golden tinted eyelashes and winking a few times to individual men, collecting her sponsors so quickly and easily.

"Well, Caesar, I think I have more than what it takes. I mean, the looks and skill are already counted for, all I need now is to be allowed to just do what I do and win," Beauty leans forward, mock-whispering to Flickman. "But compared to my fellow tributes, well, they haven't seen nothing yet. I have _tons_ of tricks up my sleeve."

The buzzer soon rings out. Caesar thanks her, holds her hand so she can twirl, before directing her off stage. She climbs down the steps, coming towards me.

"Tricks?"

She blows me a kiss, smiling and smirking and giving everything she has, despite no cameras. "Oh baby, you really do have _no_ idea what I'm capable of."

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

As soon as Beauty plays her slut card and Logan answers all the questions awkwardly and with one-worded answers, I soon feel the butterflies.

"You'll do _great_," Hollis assures me. "Better than them."

"You really need to go away," I sigh. "You're putting me off more than the others, and they're not even doing anything besides breathing."

Hollis holds his hands up, stepping back until finally, I find comfort. Need to prepare myself. They're going to ask about family, about friends, about my life at Two that somehow never compares to a fake story a trainee from the Training Centre creates. So what I'm not from the Training Centre myself, at least I won't be _lying_ up there.

I hear my name, followed by some sort of buzzer, and like a robot, my feet move without me realising. I mount the steps, instantly squinting at the bright lights and camera flashes peppering my eyes, making just walking an impossible task. I soon find the seat, ignoring the bright red hair for this year and midnight blue suit that seems to be constantly glued to Caesar Flickman.

"Andromeda. So, how are you finding things here at the Capitol compared to Two?"

I force a smile. "I've not had the best of life, but it's been pretty decent. But to the Capitol? Well, that's just an impossible dream I never thought I would achieve."

"You _never_ thought you'd get the chance to volunteer?" Caesar smiles curiously. "Why is that?"

He got me there, _almost_. Can't see Two being too proud of me announcing the fact we illegally train our tributes to the entire population of Panem, especially considering I'm not a trainee. "Well, as you can tell, many females just love to be here. I honestly thought that I'd never _personally_ get the chance to beat one of them in a race of hands."

Caesar nods, satisfied. "Do you have any siblings, Andromeda?"

I feel the funny sensation that arrives when I think about them. I abandoned them, but for a good cause. I done this for them. "I have a younger brother and a younger sister."

"What are their names?"

"Sterling, he's err, he's the middle child. And Demetria... She's the baby of the family."

The crowd begin to gush, swooning and hooked on the mere mention of younger siblings. I smile, trying to look soft for the cameras, nodding along with the idiots in the crowd. The best way to avoid the truth but without lying... Find the best topic and stick with it. Brutus taught me that.

"We live with our uncle in a shack. He works in the quarry, which, well, is brilliant. I sort of look after them all, cooking and looking out for them, making sure Sterling does well at school and that Demetria always has a toy or something to play with."

"That is so touching, isn't it touching?" Caesar places his hand on his heart. "But the main question that is on all of our minds is your perfect score! A _12_, rarely received! Can I ask your secret?"

My soft smile turns into a triumphant smirk. "That is a secret, which I just can't share. Otherwise, I'd be too obvious in the arena."

"Oo, you _tease_!"

I smile, just as the buzzer rings out. I glance to the side, seeing Hollis, eyebrows raised and eyes peaked in curiousity. He thinks he has me all worked out. I didn't get that 12 for nothing, after all, and right now, secrets are the best thing to keep.

* * *

**Surge Dalton.**

Slowly, I watch Aimee walk off the stage, tiny face contorted in confusion and... Well, emotions. She looks a cross between sadness and general admiration. I guess seeing the Capitol audience, and their wonderful colours, must have stunned her into this. She stops by me, sniffing.

"I _failed_..."

I look down at her, conflicted on what to say. Words and social interaction have never really been my thing. I struggle to communicate with anyone.

"Don't cry," I force a smile. "It's okay."

She laughs slightly bitterly. "Thank you Surge, your small words are comforting."

I can't tell whether her words are sarcastic or true, but either way, I nod curtly and turn away, seeing her eyes find the boy from Five, only three people behind me. I can tell she's happy with having him as an ally. Really, I'm happy for her. I'm happy with my alliance as well. It's worked out well for both of us.

"Surge Dalton!"

Looking up, I move forward, following the man to the steps and up, ignoring the cameras and making my way across. I sit in the seat, looking at Caesar curiously. He has always been rather strange, nice, but definitely strange.

"So, Surge, what a good-looking young man," Caesar smiles weirdly, lips glittering. "How are finding yourself?"

"Okay, thanks."

His lips curl into a brighter smile, teeth beaming. "Not much of a talker, correct?"

I nod, fiddling with my thumbs.

"Ah right, are you shy? Overwhelmed? _Surely_ you must feel comfortable?" Caesar questions.

He doesn't realise how ridiculous his comment actually is. How could anyone find this comfortable, apart from the volunteers? People like Hollis, Beauty, even Logan, they must enjoy this because they wanted this. They knew what they were signing up for when they raised their hand and shouted those fateful words. Us reaped, we're not enjoying this.

"I'm _fine_, thank you."

"Shy and polite. Well aren't you the most adorable thing _ever_," Caesar smirks. "Care to share a secret in your 6? I mean, that's pretty impressive, so surely something must have been up yor sleeve."

I nod, offering a small smile, without saying a word. Maybe it will give off the impression that I'm mysterious, a pure threat, rather than someone to be ignored. I mean, I'm not really a pure threat, but placing paranoia in someone is _just_ as strong as brains or brawn.

* * *

**Misty Liu.**

The moment I walk off stage, having answered all of Caesar Flickman's questions far too perfectly, I see Caspian, beaming like a wild child. But of course, I know Caspian and I know what he's like. There is definitely more to it than pure excitement.

"You really know how to work an audience," Caspian grins. "I plan to do exactly the same."

"Man of many talents, as you've already stated."

"I'm glad you pay attention to me." Caspian winks.

"_Someone_ has too," I wink back mockingly. "But remember, I know you, I know what you're like. You're nervous and I can tell. What you nervous for?"

His smile falters slightly, but stays relatively Caspian-esque. "Just a _few_ butterflies. I never expected this moment to really happen, you know? I must sound crazy, but yeah."

"You always knew you'd volunteer, but that was all in your head, the reality is overwhelming," I confirm for him. "Yeah, I get it. It's understandable. I always knew I'd be here one day. But I never expected it to be so... I can't even contain it in one word."

"_Thanks_, way to help the nerves, Mist."

I pat him lightly on the back, just as his name gets called out. He smiles sheepishly, ready to walk on the stage. Being with Caspian doesn't even make me feel like I'm in the Hunger Games, that I'm a tribute. I wouldn't even have befriended him back in Four. Yet, here I am, wishing him luck and out of our entire alliance, the only person I trust even mildly. I watch as he takes his seat, though suddenly, I feel someone tapping my back.

Turning around, I notice Beauty, smile ready.

"Oh Misty, you were _so_ wonderful up there," Beauty gushes. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Obviously," I smile. "Nothing is ever black and white with you, Beaut."

Beauty laughs falsely, before flipping her golden locks. "I wanted to know your opinion on Logan and his leadership skills."

"Still planning to try and take him over?" I raise an eyebrow. "You could simply ask. I'm sure Logan doesn't even want to be a leader to the likes of you and Hollis. Rather than backstabbing him, you _could_ have some dignity, and tell him head-on. You know, showing some respect, rather than acting like a coward."

"_Fiery_," Beauty crosses her arms. "You should watch out as well, you know. Don't underestimate me, because really, that would be the last thing you ever do."

"Quaking in my boots."

"That's fine, mock me Misty," Beauty starts stepping backwards, still looking at me smugly. "You won't be laughing when your cannon goes off."

"And I shall say the same thing to _you_."

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

The elevator ride back up to our floor is quiet, Modessa hugging her stomach protectively, looking like a deer in headlights. The interviews must have been tough for her. After all, she's conscious as it is, let alone making her sit there, in front of an audience, watching her carefully in a fitting dress, answering questions about herself and her life. It must have been horrible.

"Want to talk about it?"

Modessa laughs bitterly. "Yeah, because after an interview talking about myself, I _really_ want to carry on."

I frown, looking down to the floor.

"S-Sorry," Modessa mumbles.

"It's fine," I shrug. "You shouldn't have to apologise."

Modessa nods curtly, looking away at the metal wall of the small room. I stay quiet, especially since I have a lot on my mind. Tomorrow morning, I'll be in the arena, fighting for my life. And back in Five, my Dad will be watching. Knowing he works for the people that are doing this to me... Yeah, I definitely feel a bit sick and angered by that. He's a Peacekeeper, Head in fact, for the same person that put his _son_ in here, in this death match, to _die_.

Not only that, but innocent little kids, like Aimee and Rudy, they're also gonna die.

And _maybe_ I'm stupid for only realising the reality of my situation now, but I guess I never expected a wave of emotion to hit me this hard, to stun me, confuse me, leave me questioning everything and everyone around me. Anyone could turn on me. Modessa seems to leave me alone, but what's to say that she won't be my murderer? That _I_ won't be the one to leave a knife in her heart to get home?

Anything is possible.

And it _scares_ me.

The doors slide open, I blink a few times as Modessa escapes to her bedroom, then I'm left alone. Aster and Cable sit at the table, discussing something, neither taking much notice of me as I walk out, heading to my own room. I'm too sick for food. Not so much sick, but rather emotionally sick on the idea for food. Plus, I don't really want to spend any time with either Aster or Cable. They're trying to help me and Modessa, and as much as I can't exactly hold it against them, I definitely don't fully trust either.

As I pass Modessa's room, I hear the faint sound of sobbing from behind the door.

But I refrain from entering.

I doubt Modessa would like that too much. Plus, she could be pretty dangerous with those nails of hers. Instead, I open my door, climb in bed and drown out any possible thoughts for tomorrow. It's going to be _hell_, no need to remind myself that.

* * *

**Elle Cludiant.**

"Don't you fucking _dare_ say that you know _me_!" Bridge shouts, pointing his finger at Polo.

She sits there, smug, arms crossed over her stomach and jaw clenched. Vectra is behind Bridge, desperately trying to come him down, though she doesn't touch him or even say anything, just constantly waving her hands, as if his body was made of fire.

"I'm not saying I do, I don't think I'd like to have _known_ you," Polo seethes from the couch. "I'm just saying you'e getting yourself killed before you've even _got_ into the arena."

"You're judging _me_," Bridge scowls. "You're acting all high and mighty, just because _you_ were a winner out of twenty-four. _You_ think you're better than me because _you_ survived!"

"I _know_ I'm better because I actually tried to survive, rather than throwing it all away because I have nothing between my ears."

Bridge grits his teeth, before letting out a scream and eventually, smacking his leg out and knocking the table. He screams again, like a wild animal, grabbing a chair from the dinner table and slamming it down, wood turning to splinters. I don't even flinch. I've always known Bridge would be like this, a loose cannon, waiting to go off. It was only a matter of time, really.

"Bridge, calm down sweetie," Vectra pleads as Bridge grabs a broken leg of the chair, throwing it across the room. "She doesn't mean anything!"

He stops, breathing heavily. "She's trying to tell me what I _should and shouldn't_ be doing. She's expecting me to willingly play into _their_ games."

Vectra sighs wearily. "Yes, Bridge, she is. But for a reason. It's to keep you alive, rather than the Gamemakers just killing you off instead."

"I'm _not_ giving in."

Vectra sighs again, sitting back down on the couch. Polo soon stands up, ready to take over.

"I'm trying to keep you alive, but you seem so fucking ready to give up your life."

He spins on his heel, and instantly, I find myself rise. I have respect for Bridge. I didn't judge him like Polo, like most of the other tributes did. Maybe he might listen to me, if not both Polo and Vectra.

"You need to calm down," I say calmly and quietly. "You need to remember, Bridge, you're not the only one and you won't be the last one. Many before you, many after you, many right now."

"_Don't _take their side, Elle." Bridge warns.

I raise my hands. "I'm not. But you're not the _only_ one, so you need to stop thinking you are."

"You're playing into their games, the Capitol's games, you're letting them change you."

"No, I'm not," I frown. "I'm trying to stay alive. You should as well. I mean, I'm sure Rowen _might_ need you."

I flinch instinctively, knowing that possibly talking about Rowen could be a touchy subject. I know he likes her, well, at least in a platonic way. It could lead further, if Bridge is capable of that. He might feel compassion without even realising it. And quickly, I know I must right. Bridge softens, taking a heavy breath and walking away without a word.

"You're good, girl." Polo remarks.

I shrug. "I just understand him. Guess he can relate to someone that's in the same position he is."

"We were in that same position too, you know, years back."

A laugh bubbles, and comes out lightly. "Yeah, and you won. You survived, and somehow, Bridge thinks he hasn't got a chance. And after all, Polo, you've basically been telling him that for the last hour."

Polo frowns, without saying a word. I shrug again, sitting back down. I might not even have a great chance. Who knows.

* * *

**Corvus Shade.**

Cypress sits across the table from me, annoyance in her face. Nothing seems to be going right for her. Not her score, not her training and definitely not her interview. Going after the mental case from Six must have put her off her game. Sitting up there, face white as she struggled and mumbled and muttered to answer her questions. It was rather amusing, especially considering Cypress is so confident the majority of the time.

She soon notices my eyes on her. "What are you looking at, Corvus?"

"Nothing," I smile innocently. "I'm just _thinking_, that's all."

Cypress grunts in response, before looking down at her food, taking another mouthful.

Yes, definitely messed up everything so far. And there she was, so confident, so certain that she was the epitome of perfection. No doubt confronted the Careers about joining. I saw her, but really, that doesn't necessary mean anything.

Tomorrow, we head to the arena. I wonder what it'll be? I mean, it could be anything. Isaac and Ty could prove to be useful in the end, in the right environment. It all depends on what they plan to put us through.

"I don't appreciate the staring," Cypress comments again, and I snap out of my little trance. "See, you were staring. Tsk tsk, bad Corvus."

"Think what you _like_, Cypress," I smirk. "I'm not going to say anything."

"Playing the mysterious card are we? I thought we had a mutual respect for each other."

"We _do_, but that doesn't mean I trust you in on my secrets," I smile. "After all, this is a game, don't forget. Where only one can win."

"Now now, children," Blight chips in. "No arguments during dinner."

"Yes _mother_." Cypress rolls her eyes.

I smile, going back to my food. It's okay, it's all coming to head tomorrow. Hopefully things will go my way.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

I nod at Cypress, with a smile. "Yes. _More_ than ready. And you, dear Cypress?"

"_Born_ ready."

"Alrighty then. May the odds be in your favour."

"And for you, Corvus."

Cypress stands up, pushing her chair in place. She flips her red hair, before smiling a dark smile, disappearing from the room. Blight and Oakley share amused smiles, but it's fine. Everything is fine. I'm more than in control for all of this.

* * *

**Ty Herring.**

The sun beams through the curtain, catching my eye and making me wake up. That and Dorsey, politely tapping against my door.

"It's time, Ty. You have to get up now."

I pull myself out of bed, force a smile and get showered and changed. Might as well enjoy the luxuries whilst I can. I open the door, seeing Rowen come out just at the same time. I smile, Rowen smiles, and we walk down into the room together. Dorsey and Silk offer sympathetic smiles, both sat at the table.

"Are you both prepared?"

I look at Rowen, before looking back. "Yeah, I guess."

"Don't worry, getting your outfits isn't scary, nor is the hovercraft ride."

"We're fine," Rowen chips in, grinning. "Absolutely, wonderfully perfect. Aren't we, Ty?"

Rowen seems far too peppy for something like this. It's definitely not her. I know her, after all, photographic memory. Rowen is quiet, shy, reserved and doesn't open too well. She trusts little kids, but she also has a soft spot for people who come to her first. This, this isn't Rowen. Dorsey and Silk guide us to the door, ready to mount the hovercrafts and take us to the death. I slide back, closer to Rowen.

"You're _not_ okay."

"I'm perfectly fine, Ty," Rowen smiles sadly. "Honestly."

"Photographic memory," I remind her. "I remember more than things or places or people. I remember how people _act_, their _emotions_. I'm very clever, you know."

Rowen laughs slightly. "I know. But it's nothing to worry about though."

"I care about you, of course it's something to worry about."

"Maybe you _shouldn't_," Rowen frowns. "I mean, caring about me means less time focused on you winning. Worry about _yourself_, not me."

"I care for my friends, Roe," I beam, just as we're taken by light, the hovercrafts obvious outside. "And you're one of them, whether you like it or not!"

Rowen stops, grabbing me by the shoulder and spinning me around, covering me in a hug. I smile, noticing how Rowen has to bend down, just to be able to reach me properly. I'm soon covered by her dark hair, breathing onto her neck. Then, she shivers, just like she's crying.

She soon pulls away, tears streaking her face. "I-I've never had a friend before. Thank you, Ty."

"No problem," I smile. "It's what _friends_ do"

Someone soon comes over, ushering us onto the hovercraft, which soon smothers us. The whole time, Rowen keeps a content smile on her face, tears still streaming her porcelain face, one of her eyes a distant blue. Her first friend, in a death match where only one can survive. Ironic, really, but I guess that's what the Capitol does best.

* * *

**Komara Grey.**

The Launch Room is cold, dark and mysterious. Everything that sums me up, perhaps. Possibly even others. All those tributes that are pretending to be nice, but really, are fake. Hiding back their own inner darkness. How fun it must be for them all. My stylist stands there, glancing at me carefully, viewing me like all the other Capitol citizens.

"How are you feeling?"

I look at the deluded woman, before smiling sarcastically. "_Swell_, thanks."

Turning back to the mirror, I frown, trying to work everything out by myself. It's just a simple white top, short sleeved and plain as anything. The pants are pure black, simple again. Everything about the outfit is so... Normal. It's definitely not proper Hunger Games outfits. I've seen them wear some complicated, stupid stuff in the past. But never this plain and simple. I sigh, conceding defeat.

"What's so special about this outfit, then?"

She frowns, placing her finger to her chin. "The top is made of nothing special, though it's main purpose seems to hold in body warmth and expel water. Your trousers, well there is a zip for you to transform them into shorts, but besides that, nothing spectacular."

"And the boots?"

"Again, simple boots, nothing too grand. They're specifically made for running, with high-tech treds at the bottom."

"So everything is normal," I conclude. "So the arena isn't something that complicated. Or it is, and they're planning to let us all die nice and quickly."

"I wouldn't say that." My stylist squeaks.

"What?"

"I'm not suppose to say," she smiles. "Although, I did hear something about it being more than meets to the eye. But that's all I know. Oh! I almost forgot this."

I frown as she scoots on over to the other end of the room, collecting what looks like a bracelet of some kind, but a lot larger and bright silver."

"And what is _this_ for?"

"Your final accessory," she beams again, all too falsely. "I have no idea what it really is for, but I do know _everyone_ has the same thing, if not similar."

"You _don't_ even know if everyone has it."

"I don't."

"How _wonderful_," I drawl. "I just so happen to love the colour silver. Really brings out my _eyes_."

But I think there's more to it. There has to be. Why would Capitol citizens care about the ones most forgettable? After all, they are forgettable for a reason. They're bloodbaths, simple as that. Why care about them that much? My eyebrows knit, concentration taking over. No, there has to be more to it. Something else we're missing just slightly. Maybe it's an arena trick. Maybe it's so that they can find us ea- No, they put those trackers in us for a reason.

"Sit down, have something to eat!" she squeaks again.

I sit down, but I don't let the thought rest. Something is up, and something is definitely gonna go down at the bloodbath. I can feel it.

* * *

**Tanna Hines.**

The wait is intense, it's... A strange feeling of excitement and nerves, built up into one. I'm not scared, no. I know I'm ready to kill to survive. It's whether the other tributes are ready to die or not. After all, I don't plan on dying that easily.

I smirk, finding Rudy come on my mind.

He honestly thinks that I'm not evil, that I'm genuinely a good person. He even, somehow, twisted Bena around to the idea of it. Aimee was easy, because Aimee is weak-minded, childish, small and weak. Someone has to look after her, I guess.

But Bena is a _different_ case. Bena is a _tricky_ case.

He's not that bright or clever, but he's definitely curious. Paranoid. Not a trustworthy kinda guy. And whilst his little brain and heart might have allowed Aimee in, possibly even Rudy, it has no room for me.

It's okay.

I'm _more_ than fine with that.

"How are you feeling, Tanna?"

I look at my stylist with a murderous gleam in my eye. "_Perfect_."

No-one understands how much I enjoy this. How much I enjoy killing, hurting, inflicting pain on others. Those cows were nothing. They were simply my target practices, to sharpen my aim, strength and perfection, ready for her. But this has come in the way, and ironically, those target practices have provided something even better. A skill.

A skill that makes me deadly.

And then there's my poor sister, the one they thought ran away or got abuducted. She's waiting for me to get home. Waiting for me to run another blade along her arm, her leg, letting her enjoy the pain, the sweet revenge for the years of putting up with a younger sister who is a complete hopeless case. She needs me home. Otherwise, they might find her and I can't have that. But I also have to deal with Rudy. He's getting far too pesky, and really, he's grating on my nerves.

"It's time, sweetheart."

I smile, walking over to the tube. "_About time_."

* * *

**Maybelle Kailan.**

I watch as my stylist, Marko, fools around with his watch, constantly pacing back and forth almost like a timid cat. He's suppose to be comforting me, yet, I feel like he needs to be comforted. Any moment now, I'll be in that tube, waiting to go up and try to fight for my life in whatever way I can.

I haven't even got a plan yet.

All I know is, Ember told me to _wait_. She told me to stay still and wait for _her_. She was coming to collect me, whilst Komara raided the Cornucopia and collected as much stuff as she could, before we run. Ember came up with it, but I think that's to do with the fact that Komara might not return. Ember might even be praying for that.

"I wonder what's taking them _so_ long," Marko grumbles. "You're suppose to be going up _anytime_ soon."

My hands idly plays with the large bracelet Marko gave me, twisting it around and around. I stop, letting the light catch it, noticing many little wires, a few buttons and a constant beeping blue light. I frown, tracing my finger over the machinery. It's like a piece of technology, wrapped around my wrist like a portable watch, similar to Marko's but more high-tech.

"What's this for?" I say aloud, shocking even myself.

Marko frowns. "I'm not sure, they refused to tell me what it does. All I know is, you wear it and you never take it off. Taking it off is a bad thing and you wouldn't want that."

He probably means traps and Mutts might be set on me if I didn't play by the rules. A bit like the landmines on the starting plate.

A bell goes off, Marko scooping up his phone and answer. He mumbles a few words, before nodding and grinning wildly.

"It's _time_!"

I rise, taking a heavy breath. I'm not scared. No, I'm okay. It's going to be okay. Everything will be fine. I just have to hold onto that, and well, I'll be good because it will come true. Marko ushers me over to the tube. I step in, feeling slightly claustrophobic, as the glass tube soon cases me in. I look to Marko, even for some little sign that he's ready to comfort me, to make me feel slightly better.

But nothing comes.

He gives me a small, sarcastic wave and false smiles, as the platform begins to rise upwards, inch by inch, second by second, delivering me to my death.

* * *

**Ravi Coal.**

The moment the tube rises, my breath hitches. I told Ember I was scared, that I wasn't ready. I was more than wrong. I'm terrified beyond belief. I could never, ever be ready for something like this. How can you try to survive, knowing that a false move could mean the last beat of your heart? It's a terrifying thought, knowing that at any second, you could die. Someone could kill you. Even the people you trust could kill you.

You could never see your family again. Your friends, your life, your _home_, even the small, tiny things you hate so much; you begin to _miss_ them.

Miss everything.

_Even_ the people you hate.

Soon, though, the tube begins to hit something other than a concrete wall. The platform pushes up the final bit, and instantly, I squeeze my eyes shut. I don't want to face it, really. No doubt Basil is look at me, mockingly me silently for being weak, pathetic, not facing up to the thing layed out before me.

Gently, I open my eyes.

The golden Cornucopia sits there, in the middle, full to the brim with weapons and items, bags and sacks and plastic cases and boxes. The works. The mouth is practically spitting out everything you need to survive, and since Twelve never gets sponsors, it's up to me to collect something. The Cornucopia sits on a concrete floor, cracked and patched, soon to be painted with the blood of children.

I turn around on the spot, noticing that I'm in a room. Panic dies a little. That's a bit better than survival, I'd be terrible at nature and that.

The walls are licked pastel colours, stripped and painted haphazardly, spots of light, dusty blues and pinks, yellows and greens, as if a rainbow could start here. Then I notice something. There are paintings on the wall, except not little paintings. Like, mural type creations with frames. Decorations to add to the feel. The one behind me is of a clown, beheaded. Another one, just a few down and behind the little girl from Eleven is another clown, stomach ripped open and insides spilling out.

My breath turns shaky.

Gamemakers' traps, no doubt. It's probably a clue. I've seen something like this before, back a few years ago. Lots of death, lots of blood, lots of torture and pain. Nothing easy, everything was hard, everything was surprise. I don't even _like_ surprises.

Eight large, oak doors situated on four walls, containing the rest of the dangerous arena.

The nearest item to me is a loaf of bread. Next to it, a small dagger, capable of being concealed easily. I can't find Basil, meaning he must be on the other side, which makes this that much harder to work out, to try and get around, whilst trying to stay alive and avoiding trigger-happy Careers, craving our blood.

Static drifts around the air, a few tributes looking up, waiting for Claudius Templesmith's voice to begin.

My heart pounds. My head swims. But fighting both, I get myself in a stance, ready for action, ready to fight. I _have_ to do it, I _have_ to try.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Fifty-Second Hunger Games begin!"_

* * *

**Fences by Paramore.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place. ****  
**

* * *

**30 Points -**

**25 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**15 Points -**

**10 Points -**

**5 Points -**

**No vote can be for your tribute. Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not. Vote for who you like! **

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**_Glasshouse_ is almost ready, just a few more places! If you still want too, go for it!**

**If you've missed out on voting/reviewing any chapters, feel free to go catch up! Remember, you're getting a variety of points for whatever you leave within a review. On the 31st of this month, I will be deciding my bloodbath victims. You have until them to try and rack up as much as possible to avoid the most embarrassing stage!**


	8. House Of Fun

_Welcome to the house of fun, now I've come of age,_  
_Welcome to the house of fun._  
_Welcome to the lion's den, temptation's on it's way, _  
_Welcome to the house of fun. _  
_Welcome to the house of fun, now I've come of age, _  
_Welcome to the house of fun. _  
_Welcome to the lion's den, temptation's on it's way, _  
_Welcome to the house of fun._

* * *

**Beauty D'Avanzo.**

_60...50..._

A smile forms on my face as I look around at my surroundings, my new home for now, seeing the terrified tributes, faces that cannot form an equal expression. Next to me is the boy from Five, his expression looking definitely shaken. He keeps whipping his head around, as if hopefully, by the next time he snaps that pretty little head, he'd see a way out. Except there isn't a way out. The doors on either side seem locked, metal handles ready to be pulled. He probably won't even be strong enough. I smirk, finding my own so-called "allies".

The closest to me is Caspian, four plates away, and really, I don't know whether to find that comforting or not.

_40...30...20..._

I'm glad it's him, actually. Misty and me just aren't the same, she's clearly going to want me dead, whilst Hollis is just waiting to dig that mace of his into me. Andromeda is a good shot, but I need to stay away from her. Her 12 proved her aim is a lot better than mine. And that's something I can't afford to risk. The light colours don't provide much light, but it makes the whole area seem perfectly twisted. Perfectly sadistic for it's purpose.

_10..._

My eyes find a set of bow and arrows, leant against the mouth of the horn. I could get there quick enough. I wonder if anyone would dare try us? My eyes find Hollis, almost exactly opposite. He nods a little, eyes gleaming with bloodlust even from this distance. Ready to kill.

Get the bow, and shoot.

Get the bow, and fight.

Fight, Beauty, fight.

_0..._

The gong sounds, and immediately, I jump off my plate. The sounds of feet pattering against the cement flooring ring out, but I ignore it. My main focus is keeping my legs moving, reaching my precious weapons. I stretch out my hand as I reach the mouth, fingers curling arould the sheath.

I lift it up, pulling forth my first arrow, ignoring everyone else around me.

Probably my biggest regret. I'm thrown sideways, slamming into the ground. It takes a moment to register the body on top of me, the girl from Seven, before I realise my bow and arrows have scattered around nearby.

"No chance, pretty," Seven sneers. "No chance at all."

With wide eyes, I _know_ she's a contender.

Someone I totally didn't take any notice of. I don't even know her name, what score she got, nothing. Seven has never crossed my mind at any point. Her partner did, because I thought he was a contender, but _never_ her.

And how good will it look if I take a real contender out? I manage to jerk my knee upwards, slamming into her stomach. I crawl away hastily, rushing towards my bow and an arrow nearby it, before I feel her weight on me again. She laughs darkly, taking a fist full of my hair and lifting me up. Her breath tickles my neck. Her red hair spills in front of my eyes.

"Didn't think you could beat me? If they aren't going to let me in the Careers, then killing one will surely gain acceptance."

That causes me to laugh. "How delusional are you? Careers are for _richer_ districts. Not poor, urchin districts like Seven."

It's only then do I see that she has an axe in her hand, the silver tinted from the gloomy lighting. This is hasn't it's suppose to be. I'm not supposed to die. I'm a Career, I should be feared, not attacked. Then, the weight goes as I hear a scream. I spin over on the ground, seeing Hollis pinning Seven to Cornucopia, a mace gripped in his other hand. I didn't even see him move in all the chaos. Then again, I barely see any of the other tributes, running.

"Move then," Hollis spits. "Otherwise I'll _let_ her kill you."

I grab the arrow, but leave the bow behind. No. I want to enjoy this. I move to Hollis, who surprisingly, manages to keep Seven up there. Hollis doesn't even look strong. His movement with his mace is more graceful, rather than brutal. With my arrow in hand, I look Seven in the eye, smiling a perfect, camera-ready smile with a twinge of darkness. And without a second thought, I pierce the arrow straight through the parting of Seven's cocky, arrogant lips. She gurgles, brings shaky lips over the wooden arrow, before she drops dead.

"Artistic." Hollis looks surprised.

I smile, because now, it's begun. "I was _born_ to be on camera, Hollis. Just the way it is, the way I was born."

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

I group together near the Cornucopia, Misty coming along with a handy trident in her hand. I smile, her eyes confused until she realises what I'm looking at. She nods silently, then grins.

"I had to have one," Misty shrugs. "Like you with your sword."

The handle of the sword feels good between my fingers, like it was meant to be here, right with me. This sword was made for me, ironically. Then, as Andromeda and soon Logan joins us, my smile begins to fade.

"There isn't a way out," Logan confirms. "The room is large, the doors are locked."

"So this is the arena?" Misty asks.

Logan shrugs. "No idea. Maybe they want more to die first."

And his words are true. I thought the room was small, when you stand on the metal platform. But once you step off and actually turn around, you begin to realise that it's like an optical illusion. The doors seem so far away, at least a mile. I can see the tribues, scattering for the many doors, trying desperately to open them in their little alliances. A twange of pain rocks through my heart. It's like they're penning us in, making us kill a certain amount before we're allowed out.

"I don't particularly want to kill them without them fighting back," I say out loud, directed to no-one. When Logan scrunches his eyebrows, Misty nods and I smile. "I don't want to kill someone who can't defend themselves. Excuse me for having a heart that beats _blood_, not ice."

"It's true, he won't do it."

Soon enough, the tributes begin to realise that the doors aren't opening anytime soon. Maybe they've realised that other people need to die first. I don't even remember anyone's name. I don't want to know the names of people I might end up killing.

"See? Logan _can't_ be trusted," Beauty smirks, suddenly appearing with Hollis. "_So_ many kills you're letting get away."

"Correction, Beauty, the doors aren't opening," Misty points out. "They're trapped. Going nowhere. _Stuck_."

"Perfect."

And with that, Beauty loads an arrow into her bow and sends it flying. It spins through the air towards the little group, Five, Three and the boy from Ten, desperately trying to open the door that could be their freedom. No-one realises it's coming. No-one turns around. And suddenly, without a word of warning, it zaps through the neck of the little girl from Three. She dies instantly, blood running down the oak door she's been embedded on, hanging there like a marionette. Both boys look stunned, Five even stands still a moment, before Ten eventually pulls him away.

"Impressive." Hollis comments.

"I was aiming for the boy, but oh well. Time to go hunting," Beauty flashes another perfect smile. "Later _losers_."

My eyes find Hollis, before he runs off, then Logan, who lowers his head, slightly ashamed. No-one pats his back or anything, though. Andromeda leaves without a word, and Misty gently pushes me away, leaving our 'leader' stewing in his own guilt.

"I don't want to kill little kids," I murmur, as Misty continues pushing.

She laughs, a little darkly. "Maybe you should become our wonderful President then."

I realise how stupid I must seem. I volunteered for this, I asked for this. I knew reality would come crashing, I just never expected it to be so... Hard. But as my mood finds me, it brightens a little. The doors click open. Clearly the Gamemakers are satisfied with two deaths now. And obviously, Beauty picking everyone off is boring.

* * *

**Hollis Brood.**

The doors begin to open, and whilst I have no idea what is down there, many of the tributes begin to disappear into the darkness of the apparent halls until everyone is gone but me and Andromeda. The bloodbath won't exactly be that great then, considering I see her, sitting down near the Cornucopia, looking through some of the bags. Come to think of it, I didn't see her famous set of knives with her. With my mace in hand, I move over, by conscious or by decision, and sit down next to her kneeling form.

"Find anything good?"

I hear her sigh deeply. "You _need_ to leave me alone."

"I'm just being friendly," I defend myself. "Sue me."

"I should just _kill_ you instead."

"That's not very nice," I frown. "I've been nothing but friendly towards you."

My hand goes out on instinct, fingers desperate to touch Andromeda. But the minute the tip touches a piece of skin, she flinches, snatching her form away. She spins as she stands up, eyes full of anger and fire.

"_Don't_ touch me," Andromeda warns. "Don't you ever, _ever_ fucking touch me. _Never_ touch me. Touch me and I will cut you limb by limb."

Something in her words seem true, but they also seem hurt, protective and sad. They don't sound like the words of an angered, semi-psychopathic teenager in the middle of a death match she chose to participate in. They sound like the words of a vulnerable teenager, innocent and young.

"I won't touch you," I defend myself, once again. "Promise."

She glares, but continues to search deeper within the golden horn, on the hunt for something more valuable or maybe even her knives that she has yet to find. I smile softly at her imagine, ignoring the painful memory of Marcia, in a control room, screaming murder at me for being so childish and... Human. For not being as cold as she wanted me to be. Right now, I couldn't care less.

It takes a while to hear the simple footsteps, creeping towards the Cornucopia. Everyone else was gone, and obviously, didn't see the two threatening Careers from Two hidden inside the horn. Maybe this person thought that too. I grip the mace harder, climbing up quietly. Andromeda looks at me, but I place my finger to my lips. We can catch them in the act. I creep around the side, noticing the boy from Twelve collecting a knife, turning his back to walk away.

"Stealing isn't a good thing to do," I drawl, watching as he spins around, eyes wide. "Ravi, isn't it?"

He raises his knife, shaking hand causing the object to quiver.

"You can say your name, at the very least," I step a little closer. "Nothing wrong in it. You're going down in history either way, everyone will know who you are, you should just say it now."

As I step a little closer, Ravi falls back a bit, picking up his feet quickly. But he doesn't see Andromeda behind him. She has a knife in her hand. Not her usual throwing ones, just a simple knife, something I've never seen her use. With a careful eye, she throws it.

But Ravi moves at the last minute, spinning around and to the side a little. It slams into his shoulder blade, a quick cry ringing out as he drops his weapon. Nothing but a knife.

I take my chance.

Raising the mace, I run forward, spinning around, twirling the mace and letting it catch momentum, before slamming it into the side of his body. He flies, like nothing more than a ragdoll, smashing straight into the Cornucopia, leaving a trail of crimson on the golden shimmer as he slides to the ground. He breaths a couple of times as Andromeda collects his knife from the floor, silently and stony.

Andromeda checks his pulse, before standing up and walking away back to the sanctuary of the horn.

"Ruin my fun, why don't you."

She turns for a split second, face cold and hard. "I tend to not like to torture my victim. Makes you more of a coward, you know."

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

We lost Aimee. An arrow, straight through her neck, clinging her to the wall like a painting. It could have been me. It could have been Rudy. We were there, right next to her, surrounding her. I could feel the spray of her blood hitting my face, her eyes petrified as they lost colour. Then Rudy had to drag me away. It was so surreal.

"Bena, snap out of it, we _have_ to keep moving!"

"I _know_ that Rudy!" I shout back. "But Aimee _died_ and Tanna's gone!"

Rudy only snags my wrist harder, but I pull it back. He stops, scared, panting hard as the tears gloss over his eyes and gently roll down his face. He looks so young, younger than he should be. He's a child, and there's me, not that much older.

"We have to keep moving, I'm not saying we don't, but we need to know where we're going."

Rudy nods hurriedly. "We _need_ Tanna."

The name sparks a fire in me. I don't trust Tanna. Everything about her screams backstabbing child. Everyone has to backstab to survive, that's true, but she'd do it in a heartbeat. If she even has a heart inside that hollow body.

So we keep walking, walking, walking down hallways, turning corners that could hold anything, before walking again. We find a door, camoflauged by the colours so it blends to the wall, all but a darkened line of black keeping it obvious. It holds nothing but a room with another door.

"What is this?"

"I don't know," I admit. "But there's something not right, Ru. It wouldn't be so obvious."

I can't see the bigger picture, but I know I'm right. Paranoia has an advantage, I suppose. Why would the arena be full of rooms, hallways and bright colours? Something has to be hidden. Everything could be hidden, for all I know.

It comes out of nowhere, but I spin around, just to hear Rudy's scream. He buckles over, clutching his stomach. But nothing is visible on him. Everything is fine, more than fine, he doesn't look injured whatsoever. I creep forward, careful, as Rudy looks up. I can smell burned hair, the horrid stench of stomach on fire. His eyes are red, swollen, tears streaming more harsher than before, hands clutching his stomach.

"A-A-Are you okay? W-What was that?"

Rudy shakes his head, before opening and closing his mouth, before speaking. "I-I-I just got electrocuted."

"_Electrocuted_?"

He nods, but I find my eyebrows knitted together. I spin around, Rudy still on the floor, paranoid that something in the room done that. Instead, I'm faced with a door that could lead anywhere. We came in one, the one behind Rudy, and faced with an empty room and another door. I shrug, turning back.

"Maybe we should go ba-"

Instead, Rudy's still on the floor, a knife buried deep in his back, straight in the middle. Tanna stands there, proudly holding another knife in her hand, blood splattering her face. It takes a moment to realise that her arm is cut open, bleeding red, which I didn't think _possible_ for someone _so_ evil. And then, I let my heart hurt a little for Rudy's death. Tanna finds my eyes, knowing where they're staring.

"Oh this?" Tanna holds her arm up. "This place is great for tricks. Out of nowhere can an axe, you know. Straight from the ceiling. Barely had time to duck."

I don't respond. My eyes are frozen on her arm. And then, with a flick of her wrist, she throws the knife. I managed to duck, falling to the floor, just as Tanna lands on top of me, Rudy's killing weapon in her, stained red already. She stabs downwards, but hits the floor as I move out the way, narrowly missing my shoulder blade. With a thrust of my hands, I throw her off, hearing a clang. I scramble, desperate, needing to find that weapon.

I do, barely, hidden in the corner of the room.

And as Tanna dives again with the knife she lost, it finds her heart. A whimper, a gurgle, an evil smile and then her last breath. She falls on top of me, and I just stay there, surrounded by two dead children, thoughts eating away at me. Don't need to worry about allies now and the paranoia. They're all gone already.

* * *

**Ember Auger.**

"Close call," Komara breathes heavily, bending over. "Didn't even get a weapon."

I pull Maybelle closer, like a protective mother, wrapping my arms around her. I done my best to get her out of there without witnessing everything, though May likes to watch and learn everything around her. Komara didn't even tempt to grab anything in the end. She just turned around and ran towards up, trying to open the door. It wouldn't open, and then it did open, and before I knew it, Komara was shoving us down the hallway. And after that, I'm crying, like a pain wrecking through my body, tearing at my nerves and veins and everything. It hurt, it hurt _so_ much it took everything not to cry and scratch my skin off. It was a wave of pain. A wave I don't, no, _can't_ face again.

"We need to go back."

"_What_?" I ask, instinctively hugging Maybelle harder.

"We need to go back, I got nothing to protect us from."

I study her eyes, knowing that Maybelle is probably doing the same. Komara doesn't flinch. Instead she makes a shrugging gesture, moving back the way we came in. But she stops, hands feeling what seems to be a wall, coming from nowhere... Then she steps back, and creepily, the wall surges forward awkwardly, colours jumping. I instantly know what's gonna happen. And like the surrogate mother I am, I swing Maybelle around and begin pushing her to run. Komara follows, eventually.

The wall chases us slowly, edging closer and soon enough, it dawns on me that we have nowhere to go. The hallway just ends.

I turn around, heart beating faster, pushing Maybelle behind me in the hopes it will stop before her.

Instead, a million shiny, silver objects sprout, pointing deadly.

It might be knives. Nails. Bits of metal. _Anything_. But Komara but stops next to me as it gets a little closer, poised to squish or stab us.

"There." Maybelle barely whispers, pointing at what looks to be a door.

Within seconds, Komara flies for it, pushing the handle inwards as I shove Maybelle and myself through the gap. Then, a deafening sound rings out, and as I turn around, the door stops, shy of the doorway, and the shiny objects, easily nails, rocket out and slam into the wall we were only just pressed against.

"Close call," I say bitterly, mocking Komara's words. "You were right."

Maybelle clings to me, whilst Komara shoots a hated glare. I never asked her to join, she just welcomed herself. I'm sure I could look after Maybelle well enough myself. But we have nothing. No weapons, food, water or shelter. Everything could sprout dangers, just like the wall coming from nowhere. Komara moves across the brightly lit room, opening the other door.

"Lets go," Komara commands. "I think I know my way back to the Cornucopia."

I feel like arguing with her. To tell her that she's being irrational, rash, not thinking straight and too willing to put Maybelle in danger. Instead, I keep my mouth shut and encourage Maybelle to move forward. My mind wanders to Ravi after a short while. Did he make it out okay? Is he okay? After this little confession, I couldn't help but feel sad for him. He's just a scared kid.

"We'll go back and I'll go and get some stuff, whilst you and Maybelle hide, okay?" Komara says, stopping at another door. "It could be this one."

Her words sound ominous, evasive. Like she'll go in and never come back out.

But do I go in with her, to collect something, at the risk of Maybelle on her own? Or do I stay, in the risk of Komara never returning and me and Maybelle being without supplies, far too close to the Careers? There are whispers, only a few, on the other side of the door. Probably not whispering, but I'm guessing the door blocks most noises. Not that many voices, even. Just one or two, maybe three maximum. Which means that the Careers must be divided for the time being.

Or it's not the right door.

"How do _you_ know it's them?" I ask Komara.

She snaps her head at me and glares. "I just _do_."

Komara soon crouches down, pressed against the door. I soon follow suit, crouching down next to the door with Maybelle, still protecting her. I don't trust Komara. Not one bit. But for now, she's smart and useful. But when the fear arises, for the sake of myself and Maybelle, I'll _kill_ her.

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

Soon after killing the boy from Twelve, Caspian and Misty returned together, shaking their heads but not actually looking ashamed that they found no children to murder. In fact, they look kinda glad they didn't find anyone. Caspian went straight for supplies, finding another sword, just so he has two, because something I've learned, admired and got annoyed about Caspian is, he's cocky, but he can back it up easily. He doesn't need words, he just has that vibe.

Compared to someone like Beauty, whose shot is deadly, but her aim is far from it.

Misty just stayed there, waiting awkwardly for Caspian to return. She's tough, but something about her screams that she needs Caspian by her side at the very least. Which, in my eyes, doesn't spell a great Victor or even proper competition.

"Here comes Logan and Beauty," Hollis nods upwards, just as the Ones move in from another door, closing it behind them. "_Well_?"

Logan shakes his head pitifully, but like Caspian and Misty, he doesn't seem too bothered by it. Beauty, on the other hand, looks beyond angry.

"No-one, absolutely fucking no-one, it's like a maze out there!" Beauty sits down, dragging her bow to her lap. "All these fucking hallways and doors. You open one door, get a room that just has more doors on it."

"But we did witness the little girl from Ten dodge an axe," Logan chimes in. "Which definitely didn't get thrown. It came from the ceiling."

"Why didn't you shoot her?" Hollis asks.

"Beauty doesn't have _great aim_, remember?" Misty drawls, relishing in her prospect of irritating her arch-rival.

Beauty glares, but doesn't budge or attempt to take Misty. Logan moves away from her, like she's poison, sitting down and leaning against the Cornucopia. My mind wanders to him, how he's handling the idea of being leader, if he can do it all, whether he's willing to give the position up. In all fairness, Logan already looks white like a sheep.

"So what's the plan, _leader_?" Beauty says mockingly.

Logan frowns at the comment, but collects his thoughts enough to stand up. "We could try altogether, as a group."

"Yeah, that seems just _brilliant_, really."

"_I_ like it," I say surprisingly. "Better than everyone splitting up, trying to rack kills when they clearly can't catch a target."

The comment is made for Beauty, but clearly, it doesn't faze her in the slightest. She climbs up, flinging the sheath of arrows over her shoulder and holding the bow ready.

"I can still hit targets, though."

"In _groups_." Misty sneers with a smirk.

No-one else makes a movement, until Logan points his staff, more like a large stick, towards a door. And somehow, like delusional sheep, we follow a leader who seems unable to hold his own. I've never been outside the bloodbath room, it's been dubbed so kindly by Caspian, and Beauty was right. Nothing but hallways and rooms. We check one, then the other, but surprisingly, nothing.

"There is _nothing_ in these rooms!" Beauty whines again. "They've spread out, running wild, could be _anywhere_."

Logan sighs in response, opening up yet another camoflauged door. But to my surprise, he hestitates. I hear a small gasp, and instantly, I know it's not Logan or us. They've found someone.

I notice the darkness spread on Hollis and Beauty's face, relishing in the potential kill. But I don't let them get the chance. I storm past Logan, pulling forth a knife, finding the victim pressed against the wall. His wide eyes are enough to guilt anymore.

He opens his mouth, tears streaming his face, and mutters a single word.

"Please."

And with a flick of my wrist, the knife finds his heart. As everyone but Hollis clambers into the room, I find the sense of guilt a lot. I move forward, carefully looking at the boy I just killed horribly. A quick death by me was a lot better compared to a horrible death from Beauty and her awful aim.

"Who is it?"

"The boy from Eight," I sigh. "The redhead."

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

Six cannons and six deaths. Everyone looks a little puzzled, since only four deaths were by us. Logan sits down, looking tired more than anything. Beauty inspects the body, smiling as she kicks his leg away from her, boot dipped in his blood. Caspian and Misty share awkward half-smiles and half-frowns, moving over to sit down on the other side, opposite Logan. No Hollis. He's outside, looking around, no doubt, like a predator, stalking it's prey.

And then, almost mockingly in response, another cannon fires. Hollis found someone, _clearly_. So them six deaths become seven.

* * *

**House Of Fun by Madness.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Cypress Nelson, District Seven.**

**Aimee Wyre, District Three.**

**Ravi Coal, District Twelve.**

**Rudy Millwater, District Ten.**

**Tanna Hines, District Ten.**

**Ty Herring, District Eight.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**30 Points -**

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**5 Points -**

**No vote can be for your tribute. Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not. Vote for who you like! Votes in reviews only.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!**

**If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**A shocking, last bloodbath that's not been revealed! :o**

**Get ready, because you don't want to know the many twists, plots, ideas and torture I've got planned. My most gruesome, complicated arena yet. Be prepared. ;)**


	9. In For The Kill

_Let's go to war,_  
_To make peace._  
_Let's be cold,_  
_To create heat._  
_I hope in darkness,_  
_We can see,_  
_And you're not blinded by the light from me. _

_I'm going in for the kill, _  
_I'm doing it for a thrill, _  
_Oh I'm hoping you'll understand, _  
_And not let go of my hand._

* * *

**Logan Voss.**

I find Beauty's smirk standing out, dark and wicked, like her. No-one moves. But slowly, Andromeda exits the room, as Caspian and Misty share weird looks. Then, almost as soon as she leaves, I find my feet walking almost robotically towards the door. Except, not by myself or even leading. I follow Beauty as she strides out proudly.

Once Beauty moves out the way, I find my eyes wide, seeing Hollis standing over a boy, spiked mace held proudly in his hand.

"I think I might have to steal him," Beauty chimes. "He's a _lot_ better than Logan."

And when I look closer, I see the boy turns out to be the guy from Nine, Isaac. I remembered his name. I remember everyone's name, because I guess it's what you need to do, at the very least. Kill someone and remember their name. He's layed there, head caved in from the vicious blow, his sandy orange hair matted by the bright blood, tiny pieces of his white skull scattered around near him. Andromeda, however, does _not_ look impressed with either Beauty's words or Hollis' actions.

"He came out of nowhere," Hollis shrugs. "He didn't attack, but he didn't run. Kinda looked like he wanted me to do it. Suicide, really."

"Wasn't he in that alliance with the little boy Andromeda _knifed_?" Beauty smirks.

"Yeah," I quip in. "And the boy from Seven. He might be nearby."

"He was," Hollis shrugs again. "But he didn't fight. When he saw me leave, he ran, because even though he might attack us all at some point, he definitely couldn't take us all on when you lot were possibly hidden. So he ran, and his _idiot_ friend here, just stood there and accepted his fate."

Soon, a cry rings out from instead the room, and naturally, I rush in. Caspian stands wide eyed, holding his arm, as Misty gapes at him, shocked.

"What happened?"

"He punched _me_," Misty says shocked. "And then _he_ freaked out."

"He punched you?"

"Playfully!" Caspian puts his hands up in defense. "I only done it _playfully_, and this happened! I got, like, electrocuted, I think!"

Misty doesn't look impressed as she takes a swing of her own fist, smacking Caspian on the arm. And then, like poetry, she freaks and grabs her arm in shock. I stand there, looking at the pair of them, neither knowing what happened or what's going to happen. At that moment, Beauty decides to walk back in.

"We're moving," Beauty announces with a sickly smile. "Need to find that Seven boy. He's nearby."

I nod, but keep my eyes focused on her. "And who decided this?"

"I did," Beauty saunters forward. "That a problem, _Logie_?"

But I don't play her game. Spending enough time with her, I know roughly what she's up to. She's baiting me. "Of course not. You think it's a good idea, we'll do it."

Beauty walks away, no doubt proud, whilst Misty and Caspian move up closer. Neither say anything, but as Misty looks into my eyes, I know everything is coming to a head. We were determined to be the best Career pack ever, working our way out. And in the end, we're probably going to part a lot sooner.

"You need to stand up to her," Misty raises an eyebrow. "Seriously. You're our leader, you should be making the decisions, not her."

"Easier said than done." I retort.

Misty smirks, then nods. "Well, I guess I'll have to show you how to do it, then."

I nod, but stay silent. She's right.

And so am I.

Sooner or later, everything is going to blow up and all us will be caught in the crossfire.

* * *

**Rowen Knight.**

The pain was terrible. It hurt, hurt so much. Like a fire burning through my body. And as much as I love fire, it definitely wasn't worthwhile. We stopped as I buckled to the ground, mainly because it happened to Surge just moments before.

I stand up, weak, meeting Bridge's worried but cold eyes.

"Are you okay?"

I nod, taking a shaky breath that rocks my body. "I-I-I don't know what's going on."

"I think we should stop," Modessa says quietly. "Get some rest."

Everyone agrees, and slowly, I sit down, tired. The bloodbath was awful. Bridge managed to collect a bag and knife, whilst Surge managed to snoop out a bag which he keeps tightly against himself. He hasn't said what's in it, but if it's him, then I know it must be important. Soon enough, as Bridge takes the seat next to me, the anthem blares, followed by the haunting Capitol seal that lights up on every single wall around us, announcing the deaths.

First up is the little girl from Three, Surge's district partner. I search his face for emotion, and whilst he doesn't show it, he's definitely a little upset she didn't survive. Following her is the girl from Seven, Cypress I think, and then my heart stops as Ty's face appears, smiling sweetly and innocently. I feel tears building in my eyes, and through my good eye, it dribbles down my face. He's quickly replaced by the boy from Nine, who I'm quite surprised at, since he seemed a good threat, both the youngsters from Ten and then the boy from Twelve.

Seven kids taken. _Killed_.

That's when I see a fall in Modessa's already low mood.

Surge looks at her closely, like he's inspecting her, but says nothing.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly, knowing it sounds dumb in the middle of a death match, especially with my silent tears.

She shrugs her tiny shoulders, cuddling her body. "Bena's on his own. The girl from Three and the pair from Ten are, sorry _were_, his alliance. If those three are dead, it means he's on his own. I feel a little bad, that's all."

Bridge makes a grunting sound, not of disapproval or acceptance, just a simple noise as he digs through his bag. He pulls forth some jerky, which he splits, and throws it over to Surge and Modessa across the room from us. Not a big room, either. Small, box shaped with two doors and neon colours licking the walls. As everyone eats quietly, Surge searching his backpack and Modessa looking mindlessly at the wall, I scoot a little closer to Bridge.

He seems shocked. Cold and unresponsive. But he doesn't push me away.

And then, he lifts his arm and lays it over my shoulders, pulling me inwards. He doesn't say anything, and neither of the other two look, but it's comforting enough.

"He was my _only_ friend..." I mumble. "He says I was his friend. I-I've never had a friend before."

Bridge stays quiet. But he pulls me a little closer, squeezes me a little tighter, and that's enough for now.

I see a small, sad smile on Modessa's face as she notices us, just as Surge gets up, bag in hand. He doesn't say anything, just inspecting the bracelet around his wrist. I would see the gears churning, if they were visible. He moves over, putting his hand out as if he wants my bracelet. I do, and then, with a slight nod, he moves into the middle of the room.

"What is it?" I ask.

"Electricity, district partners," Surge announces, but like he's talking to himself. "Your partner gets injured. Killed. And the district partner gets electrocuted. Punished."

I push away from Bridge to stand up, hands fumbling for the device. "So I got electrocuted because Ty died?"

Surge nods. "Yes. Me for Aimee, too."

I look to Bridge, whose face has become stony and dark, before back at my wrist. They want one winner. But they're electrocuting us when our partner fails. Either way, you can't walk away free or unharmed. Everyone is going to be shocked. And somehow, out of all that, I still find my mind on Ty. I didn't even get to say goodbye.

And now, after gaining one friend this morning, I've already lost him. And once again, Rowen Knight, _friendless_.

* * *

**Elle Cludiant.**

The hallway looms ahead, casting inky shadows onto the floor. I don't hear nothing, see nothing, because everything is too dark. I managed to run out with a spear. Cypress was already dead when I saw her, arrow pierced through her mouth and leaving a pool of blood near the Cornucopia. I didn't expect that. I admit, whilst I didn't trust her fully, I definitely didn't expect Cypress to die in the bloodbath.

I hear a whistle, and I spin my head, hearing a clang.

I go quiet.

Everything goes dark.

Then, almost out of nowhere, I see a glint of metal coming my way. I manage to drop to the ground, but _barely_, as something catches and cuts through my hair. It lands, springs, and I as I turn around, I realise it's a spear. My heart begins to hammer. My grip gets sweaty. Another whistle and another clang, and before I know it, I'm on my feet running. Another spear whizzes past me, barely missing my shoulder.

More follow.

I dodge nearly all of them, metal arrowheads barely scraping my skin. Nothing hits, but it definitely cuts up my uniform a little. I manage to duck around the corner in time, just as the last spear slams against the wall with all the others. My heart slows down a little and I switch the spear to my other hand. But just as I think things might be calm, I find my feet attached to no ground. Like someone just stripped the floor from underneath my feet.

I fall, but not far. Landing hard on the ground with my spear falling behind me.

"_Great_," I mutter. "Absolutely _perfect_."

I claw the ground for my spear, but instead, I hear a cough. My body tenses up, eyes strained and wide at the dark figure in front of me.

"Here you go," I can tell it's a boy. "Your spear."

Then, he steps into the darkened light. The boy from Seven, Cypress' district partner. I take the spear, but cautiously. I feel like I should run. Run, run and run until my feet can't take no more. I know he's a threat. He's like a Career, just without the alliance. But I'm trained. I could fight, if I wanted too. But something about him handing me my weapon doesn't seem all that threatening.

"Why?"

"Excuse me?" he laughs.

"Why are you giving me my spear back?" I step back a little. "Why don't you just _kill_ me?"

"My name is Corvus," Corvus now smirks. "And I'm not going to kill you, because they might instead."

"Who are _they_?"

He points behind him, but my eyes find the axe in his hand.

And on cue, just behind him, I hear the footsteps of what sounds like a bunch of footsteps. The Careers, no doubt, and as much as I would happily take one of them done, I know I need the advantage of surprise, not being found. He places his finger to his lips, winks and then pushes open a door right next to him. Everything in my body should scream for me not to be so stupid and just run and save myself. And yet, my feet move, spear in hand and Corvus closes the door, hiding ourselves. He doesn't say anything, just stares at me before putting his hand out.

"So don't I get your name?"

"Elle," I respond, but without taking his hand. "Elle Cludiant."

"Well, Elle, since I know that Cypress is dead and I've lost both of my allies... I _guess_ we're allies, now."

He has an axe. I have a spear. No backpacks, but maybe we could get something. He's right, also. No Cypress and if he's lost his allies, then he's alone too. Maybe becoming allies wouldn't be so bad.

"Fine," I nod. "But strictly allies until we need to go different ways."

From the corner of my eye, I see the colours on the wall swirl, but I ignore it, focused in on Corvus as he nods in return. And it comes out of nowhere, but before I know it, I'm thrown against the wall with a thud, everything goes black and the last image being of Corvus also falling, eyes closed.

* * *

**Basil Larkspur.**

The sound of screeching metal snaps me out of my thoughts, and on instinct, I jump back.

The floor opens up, baring angry spikes and blades. I step back shaking, mouth gaped, as the spikes and blades chew and eat on thin air. But instead of air, it could have been me. It came out of nowhere and if it wasn't for the obvious noise, I would have taken that step and fell in.

_So close_.

I watch it, fascinated, until finally the concrete flooring melds back together and covers the danger. Taking a deep breath, I place my foot forward, but nothing happens. Feeling confident enough, I move forward and over it, quickly as possible. I'm surprised I haven't bumped into any other tributes. I waited for Ravi to return from collecting us something, but he never did. And then, clearly, I saw his face on the walls, confirming my worse suspicions. He got killed trying to get us stuff.

And worse of all, I do need a weapon.

A knife, or maybe a long knife, that way it's easier and more threatening. Though I could definitely outsmart an opponent.

My thoughts go to my little sister Poppy, my friends and Amber. Are they watching me? I couldn't bare to know that Poppy watched me kill or die. It would make this already harsh experience even more worse than before. Amber... Knowing her boyfriend of a few weeks could so easily die and if he did survive, then that means someone as young as Maybelle dying instead. Either way, it doesn't look like I can win.

To survive, I need to kill.

Killing means Poppy knowing her brother, someone she looks up to and loves, is capable of murdering someone younger than him. Killing a child.

The hallway feels like it's closing in, and as I turn a corner, I find a door. My mind tells me no, but my body yes. No weapon means no protection. Hiding is the best for me at this very moment. But as I open the door, I'm faced by a little boy, the guy from Five, sat in the corner with wide eyes. His eyes snap towards me, and almost instantly, he's on his feet waving a knife that's already stained with blood.

"I-I-I don't want to hurt you!"

I raise my hands in defense. "I don't even have a weapon, little man. Couldn't kill you if I wanted too."

He stares at me hard for a moment, eyeing me up, before lowering the knife a little. "Sorry..."

"No need to be sorry," I say, still firmly pressed against the door. "Paranoia gets to everyone in a place like this."

He scoffs a little, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, I had paranoia before I got in here. But your supposed '_ally_' turning on you, well, that definitely doesn't _help_ it, exactly."

"I guess not."

My eyes find the bloody knife again and it makes sense. He no doubt killed his ally in self-defense. I track my thoughts, trying to place him and who he was with in training. The little girl from Three... The pair from Ten. He killed one of them, no doubt. A part of me wants to leave, leave him in peace until eventually, he just dies of starvation or dehydration. I could go back to the Cornucopia and find something useful.

But he's young. Maybe a little bit older than Poppy. "Allies?"

He looks at me, but shakes his head. "No thanks... Think my trust in people has gone, no offence."

So _easy_ to kill right now.

Yet, I nod silently and close the door, leaving him inside the room smeared with blood and on his own. He wants to be on his own, so fair play to him. Maybe me being on my own would be a good thing too. I walk down the hallway, taking deep breaths.

And I'm on my own. Everyone ends up on their own, eventually, only naturally I do it now. If a little kid can do it, so can I. The only bright side is knowing that my loved ones, the people I care so much about, won't have to watch me kill or turn against someone who _trusts_ me.

That's all that is important to me.

* * *

**Komara Grey.**

"Do you have your weapons now?" Ember asks impatiently.

I look at her, then Maybelle quietly eating a piece of bread, before grinning. "_Indeed_."

These are my weapons. My blades. My scimitars. One in each hand, I no doubt look powerful and mighty. No-one would think I could kill someone. I'm the dark horse of this whole competition. The girl from Nine, the poor district that is nothing but grain, who looks like she could handle a blade but at the same time, wouldn't have the guts because she looks so fragile and meek. Definitely underestimate me.

I move over to the large pile the Careers so stupidly left behind. "Don't _you_ want a weapon, Ember?"

She looks puzzled for a moment, before she walks over calmly and plucks a knife from the collection. She holds it proudly for a moment, before tucking it away in her black pants. Ember and a weapon doesn't sound too promising, but we'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she can handle it at some point.

"And _now_, we can go," I smile. "We're prepared."

"As prepared kids can be trying to survive in a place trying to kill them."

Ember collects Maybelle like a little child, wrapping the little girl's hand in hers, and leads the way out through another door.

As we walk, I play with the strap of my backpack, surprised we haven't run into anyone. I know Isaac is dead, but that doesn't matter. He was okay, but never a fighter and definitely never what you would call great at being positive. Always depressed. Always numbing himself downwards. Barley was right. He was kinda useless, even with the Career strength he held so greatly and yet used so stupidly.

Maybelle opens a door, entering and leaving as quick as possible, as if she's snooping something else.

"What _is_ she doing?" I say rudely.

Ember rolls her eyes, crossing her arms tight. "She's looking for somewhere safe to stay the night."

That gains a laugh from me. "How do you even know it's night?"

"Maybelle believes it is and I _trust_ her enough," Ember turns and glares at me coldly. "Why, don't _you_?"

"Just asking," I shrug. "Not exactly a _crime_, Ember."

She scoffs, looking as Maybelle finds a room or whatever she seems happy with it. She enters, Ember follows and then me. Maybelle sits down, hugging her knees as she looks around, still completely quiet. Ember sits near her, leaving me to sit on my own on the other side. I don't like Ember that much. Not fond of Maybelle, either, though since she doesn't speak that often, you can't hate her all too much. But it's Ember's sarcasm, wit and judgement I don't like.

"What's that?" Ember says suddenly, looking upwards.

I blink, looking to the ceiling. But there's nothing there.

"You're going crazy." I shake my head.

"No, it's there, I can hear it."

"Ember, just _shut_ up," My eyes turn into a glare. "You're freaking Maybelle out."

But Maybelle shakes her head. "I can hear it too."

I look around, not hearing anything and definitely not seeing anything. But I stand up anyway, holding one of my scimitar in my fighting stance. Ember's head snaps from side to side, desperately trying to find the sound. And all the while, Maybelle keeps her eyes focused on something up above. I follow her eyes, noticing something glimmer up ahead in the darkness of the ceiling.

And then it _strikes_.

* * *

**Maybelle Kailan.**

I looked at it for ages, just still, hung up above us all, waiting. Just sitting there, shining and looking deadly. But it's got a noise to it. Nothing much, but it's like a sizzling sound. As if fire melting or cooling.

Slowly, it begins to drop, and then, quickly, it swoops like a bird to prey.

Komara jumps away just in time as the large, curved blade seering red from heat, swings down. It crashes against the wall, shattering a hole. Ember instantly jumps on top of me, holding me to the ground as the blade swings backwards, towards us. It slams against the wall above our heads, and pitifully, I let out a cry.

"Move!" Komara shouts.

I shuffle with Ember still protecting me as it swings back. Only this time, Komara gets up for some reason.

"No!" I scream.

The blade swings at her, and whilst she manages to dodge most of time, the tip of the silver, hot, slashes her upper arm. She cries, falling as it comes back.

But as soon as it swings closer to us, it stops, dead centre of the room. Shaking, I get up, helped by Ember who wraps an arm around my body and holds me against her own. I can feel her heart hammering, beating harshly against her rib cage and in rhythm with mine. Komara cries, screams and then hisses in pain as she gets up. My eyes fall straight to the gash along her skin. Welting red with charred skin, deep enough that I can see the shine of white, which must be her bone. She holds it limply, struggling back the fighting tears.

"I saw it," I tremble. "I saw it."

"D-D-Don't worry sweetie," Ember cooes. "Y-You didn't know."

Tears blur my vision, silently sliding down as Ember holds me close. Komara bends over, still clutching her arm and letting her dark curls cover her face. But then she looks up and suddenly, the pain is smothered by a redness that could only be anger.

"The little brat _knew_," Komara hisses. "She _knew_ it was there and kept quiet!"

I can see the fire in her eyes, feel the hatred in her voice. Ember suddenly pushes me behind her, covering me with her body as she holds her arms out.

"I heard it, I told you and _you_ didn't believe me," Ember announces, but with a shaky voice. "_You_ didn't trust us."

"She fucking _knew_," Komara shakes her head, gritting her teeth. "She _wanted_ me dead."

My eyes close shut. But somehow, I feel Ember's own body shaking, except not from being shook up, but from anger.

"Of course she wanted you dead, you _idiot_!" Ember screams with clenched fists. "_Everyone_ wants each other dead because that's how this game is _suppose_ to be played! Only one can survive and it's everyone for themselves! How fucking delusional _are_ you?"

I peek around from behind Ember's hip, just in time to see Komara bend over and pick up one of her blades, smirking an impossibly dark grin.

"So Ember has fire, _ironic_, really," Komara saunters forward a little. "I didn't think you had it in you. But I guess you're _right_. Everyone for themselves. Maybe it's time we cut this little alliance of ours now whilst we can, and fend for ourselves. Move aside."

Ember's arms stretch out. "I won't let you touch her. You're not _big_ for killing a little child."

Komara raises her blade and laughs a little. "I don't want to kill you _yet_, Ember. Let me at _her_ first. She knew and she was ready for me to be killed like that."

Without word of warning, Komara runs forward and swings her blade. I feel Ember's hands on me, pushing me to the ground. I spin over, just to see Ember push herself hard against the wall to avoid Komara's slash. She turns to me, raises the blade in the air and prepares to swing down.

Except she doesn't.

Her eyes go wide, mouth gaped but with no words. She falls to her knees, Ember standing over her and the knife visible in her lower back.

Ember breaks out in a sob, but then manages to laugh a little. "She was going to stab us in the back. I thought I'd beat her to it."

Komara bends over, coughing up the blood. Ember quietly picks me up and walks me out the room, just as the blade begins to swing again. Komara stands on barely stable legs, but it's too late. The cannon booms, signalling that Ember killed her. The blade comes along. It catches Komara's torso, spikes her, swinging and dragging her body in the air like a puppet. It rips, blood drips from her body, and then it stops.

But she's already dead. Komara hangs there, limp, penetrated on the swinging blade that's hooked her torso, long blade still in her back.

Ember breaks out in another cry, lets out a few ragged breaths, before draping her arm over me, and holding me close. "Just you and me, kiddo, just _you_ and _me_."

* * *

**In For The Kill by La Roux.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Isaac Eibrab, District Nine.**

**Komara Grey, District Nine.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now we're in the arena. You may vote for your own tribute now. ****Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not. Vote for who you like! Votes in reviews only.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**Things are getting brilliantly nasty... More surprises, creative mutts, and more twists and turns. ;)**

**I have revealed the idea of the bracelets. But there is more to it... Kinda like my flashlights in Nowhere To Hide.**


	10. Broken

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing,_  
_With a broken heart that's still beating._  
_In the pain, there is healing,_  
_In your name I find meaning._  
_So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on,_  
_I'm barely holdin' on to you._

_The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head,_  
_I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead,_  
_I still see your reflection inside of my eyes,_  
_That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life._

* * *

**Corvus Shade.**

My head swims, images of Seven blurring my mind. The smell of pine, the constant grass and bark laying on the ground. The school not far from my house and the lumber yard, hidden in the corner. But of course, Seven is massive, one of the largest districts, so that's only my immediate area. My eyes peel open, blurred, until I blink a few times. The colours on the walls are shocking, but I manage to push them away as I look over to Elle, sprawled out on the floor with her dense blonde hair covering her face.

Attractive, really.

"Elle," I groan, climbing up onto my knees and finding my axe, just nearby. "Elle."

She stirs, before opening her eyes suddenly, as if she just had a nightmare.

"Are you okay?"

Elle grunts and shrugs her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm great. Head feels like someone hit me though."

"Promise you it wasn't me," I laugh, climbing to my feet and offering her a hand up. She hestitates, but eventually grabs hold and hoists herself onto her feet. "Now, we can leave. Surprised the Careers didn't find us."

"I'm not," Elle shrugs again. "Seem awkward."

"What?"

"Nothing." Elle waves it off, moving to the door.

But when she grabs it and pulls the handle, it doesn't budge. She looks confused as she yanks even harder, but it stays shut, as if someone glued it whilst we were unconscious. She turns around and gives me a funny look, something I can only shrug to, before she tries unsuccessfully again.

"It's not opening."

I look around the room, but there's no other door. "So we're trapped. _Great_."

"Can't be," Elle decides. "That's not exciting enough."

It's only then, as I stare carefully at the walls, that I notice the floor looks... Different. Not so much changed, it's still most definitely cold concrete, but there's something else about it. I look closer, trying to work it out. I'm not the quickest to find things out, but it definitely isn't the same. My eyes steal a quick glance of Elle, who jams her spear into the wedge of the door, before I touch the ground.

"Elle," I say, a little taken back, shocked at the many possibilities that could happen. "Did you know the floor feels wet?"

"_Wet_?" Elle spins around.

"Like wet concrete," I murmur. "It's soft and gooey to touch. But not everywhere."

Elle checks herself, expecting to find some of the concrete connected to her outfit, before looking back at my probing finger. "What does that mean?"

I open my mouth, ready to respond with the thought pattering on my brain, when the floor begins to rumble. Elle shoots a look at me as panic rises in me, before the rumble turns into a quiver, and then a rolling motion, like a tidal wave tilting over. It's only then do I see Elle go higher than me and looking down, before we switch.

"The room is like _jelly_!" Elle shouts, falling to her knees as she gets sprung upwards without her spear. "Or like a giant trampoline!"

I get thrown up as well, smacking my head against the ceiling of the coloured room before falling back down, noticing Elle now pressed against the wall, looking for a spear that continues to propel into the air on it's own. Then all of a sudden, it stops and I stumble forward into Elle harshly, barely able to stop myself at all.

She blinks a few times, my nose practically squished up against her, hands placed on either side of her head.

"Err..." I mumble, noting my cheeks getting hot.

"_Down_!" Elle shouts, suddenly thrusting forwards with her hands and toppling me to the ground and landing on top of me.

At that moment, a dozen knives that seem to have come out from nowhere, slamming simultaneously into the wall we were up against just moments ago.

Elle stays still for a moment on my chest, continuing to blink as she stares at me directly in the eyes. "Sorry."

"No need to be," I grin sheepishly. "Though I think we should go before jelly room appears again."

She gets up, grabbing her spear and shaking herself off, quiet. "Do we even know what knocked us out?"

I don't respond, instead walking to the door that now opens with ease. "No idea."

* * *

**Bridge Campbell.**

"Why are you so angry?"

I look down at Rowen, still cuddled up into my side, a lopsided smile on her face. My eyes find her cloudy grey eye, the other sparkling a dull blue from being blinded. I shrug my shoulders, still holding her tight. She reminds me of something of a wounded animal. You know they're done for, but you can't help but want to protect them. I've learned to respect Rowen since seeing her crying that first day. And now, I've learned more than to just respect her. But to cherish her, as corny as that sounds.

"Answer me, Bridge," Rowen pleads. "I want to know."

I quickly glance over at Modessa and Surge, wrapped up in their own things, colours streaking above their heads.

"I'm not always angry," I reply quietly. "I'm just used to letting people in."

"You let me in fine."

"That's because you and me share something in _common_." I respond.

She tilts her head slightly. I sigh, taking her hand and putting it behind my back. She keeps a confused look on her face as I push her hand underneath the top I was given, letting her fingers trace my flesh.

"Your back..."

"I was whipped well and truly," I sigh again. "Went on for hours until I was a bloody mess. Now, my back, it's just a raw piece of flesh with dozens of scars and ripped muscle."

"So you meant my eye," Rowen nods. "That's what we share in common."

"I was only trying to protect my little brother," I reply, feeling the heavy pressure on my heart just letting out. "He was what you would call a kleptomaniac. He steals everything and anything, and he just... He just doesn't stop. Then, one day, he went and got caught stealing some pipe from a local garage. The man didn't want anything done, but a Head Peacekeeper came around. I knew... I just knew he'd get whipped, so I took the blame."

"You sacrificed yourself."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of _hero_," I roll my eyes. "I just didn't want the little _idiot_ being scarred for life. So I did it instead, and yeah, could say it left me a _little_ bitter towards the twisted world we live in."

"I didn't know," Rowen removes her hand, placing it on my heart. "I'm sorry."

I look at her, a sense of warmth filling my body as her hand lays gently on my chest. "I'm your friend, you know."

She looks up, shocked, but I can see the slightly glimmer of tears building in her eyes. Roe doesn't speak, but I nod and surprisingly, smile willingly.

"_I'm_ your friend," I repeat myself. "You lost Ty, you lost a friend, but I'm here and _I'm_ your friend."

Her smile beams, and slowly, she rises. I look at her as she looks around the room, before grinning at both Modessa and Surge, who finally take notice. Modessa gets up, shaking down her clothing and adjusting everything about it, before slinging Surge's backpack over her shoulder. He definitely isn't happy about her stealing, but she offers a small, almost invisible smirk and he concedes.

"Did you want to go?" Modessa asks quietly.

Rowen looks back at me and grins wildly. "Yeah, I think so. 'Dessa, can I ask you something?"

Modessa looks at her, puzzled for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"Would you say you're my friend?"

She looks a little taken back by that, but she's quick to recover, offering a light small and nod, letting the curls spill in front of her face. "Yeah. I guess you could say that."

Rowen takes the moment, smiles, and as I get up, she wraps her hands around my body and hugs me softly. Modessa gives a soft smile as she leads herself and Surge out the room. Once they've gone, Rowen pulls away, leans up on her toes and presses her lips lightly to my check. My eyes strain at the pressure of her kiss, but I don't push her away. She soon falls back, grinning more sheepishly this time.

"Friend," Rowen smiles lopsided again. "Yeah right."

* * *

**Hollis Brood.**

"I give up," I say, sitting down on the ground in protest. "He is long gone. Probably ran away and is now sat somewhere, mocking us. Best Careers ever? Yeah, right."

Andromeda eyes me up, scoffing as she moves forward a little more. My heart hurts a little at her cold nature, but I guess that's what it is with Two tributes. We tend to be cold, but for all the hidden reasons that nobody ever asks. Marcia knows, but that's because she's experienced. A part of me wanted Andromeda to be warm, kind, maybe even a little nurturing. Girls in the Training Centre are just as bad as the boys. But Andromeda... She's not one of us. She's a normal teenage girl on the outside of the walls that imprison us. And yet, she doesn't seem that much different to the girls on the inside.

"Well, well, well, Logan, letting another one get away _so_ easily," Beauty smirks. "Not going good for him."

Logan gives her a look, before stopping himself. Even I know it had nothing to do with Logan. "Never is."

But the moment we all get comfortable, the only people still standing being Beauty, Caspian and Misty, a shadow appears at the crossway of some hallways. Tall, shadowed, but definitely a tribute and definitely old. The guy from Eleven comes into light, and with wide eyes, stares at the pack. But Beauty is clever. She's slightly hidden behind Caspian and Misty, and whilst neither of Four takes a shot, Beauty lets loose the arrow she had planned for Seven.

It whizzes through the air, but Eleven manages to duck to the floor and skip it. She barges past Casp and Mist, but she stops when a large, cinderblock wall shoots up from the ground, seperating her from the potential prey.

"Fuck!" Beauty screams, punching the wall lightly. "I'll get _you_, you watch it!"

Misty lets out a laugh, and like unleashing an animal from a cage, Beauty spins around and glares.

"Got something to say?"

Misty composes herself for a moment, then tilts her head. "Your aim is _pretty_ damn terrible."

"Coming from the girl with no kills, yet I have two already." Beauty spits.

"A little girl not looking and someone that Hollis pinned up and held for you," Misty saunters forward a little. "Such progress. Give yourself an applause, Beaut, you are deadly."

Beauty throws her bow and arrows to the ground quickly, stomping forward until she's right into Misty's face. I look to Caspian, who looks conflicted as to whether he should help or not, then to Logan, who isn't fazed and finally Andromeda, who watches with a dark but keen interest in the fight. I have to admit, seeing Beauty and Misty fight would be rather interesting.

"Say it again," Beauty whispers. "I dare you."

Misty laughs a little, dropping her trident to the ground, then pronounces each word slowly with more sarcasm dripping in her voice. "_You are deadly_."

Beauty blows up, face contorted in anger as she slaps Misty across the cheek. Everyone's eyes go wide as Misty holds onto her stinging face, whilst Caspian holds his own cheek in shock. But then, as she pulls it away, you can see the ghost of a smile. She sighs, before stretching herself out and straightening up.

"You're lucky I don't fight for no reason," Misty looks at her with hateful eyes. "And _you_ are no reason. Don't think of yourself as anything spectacular, Beauty, because you are _nothing_ more than a simple airhead child that follows the stereotypes that always come from your wonderful district."

Caspian lets out a controlled laugh, but quickly clamps a hand over his mouth.

"And what are you, _huh_?" Beauty tilts her head mockingly, face still red. "Think you're better because you have honor and respect and all that? High and mighty, are we? Because you aren't anything either, sweet. You haven't even got the _balls_ to use that precious little trident of yours."

"I have _respect_, more than you would ever have."

Beauty laughs. "Yeah, I'm sure of it. And when you bleed to death because you didn't fight back and kill someone, I'll just _laugh_ at you. _Then_ we'll see who is better."

Logan stands up with a tired look in his eye, using his hands to split the girls up. "Don't fight."

"Get _off_ me," Beauty slaps his hand away. "We're leaving."

She gives Logan another look, to which he nods and then, she begins walking back the way we came. I stop to wait for Andromeda, who dismisses me once more. If, no, when we split, looks like loyalties will be divided.

And I much prefer Beauty to Misty.

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

Finally, I manage to stand up without shaky legs. The pools of blood, one Rudy and the other Tanna, are now dried and crusted, sickeningly mocking me at the allies I lost and killed within seconds. Unlike Aimee, I didn't get dragged away. If Rudy didn't drag me away, I would have stayed there, just staring at Aimee's dead body and probably would have got myself killed. But Rudy and Tanna... I just couldn't move. Both of them facing downwards, faces pressed into the flooring, and I couldn't move.

I was fixated on them. Not fascinated, but _disgusted_.

Then Eleven came and went and didn't even make a move to kill me.

I watched the metal claws eat Rudy and the little demon and whisk them away. I stumble towards the door, disappearing behind it and back into the hallway. I never wanted allies. I just have to remind myself that. I didn't want help, but I accepted it, and now they're dead and I'm back to the position I wanted to be in at the beginning. Alone.

With blade in hand, I move down the hallway, noticing the many doors but taking none. We did that last time and look what happened.

I hear footsteps coming from in the darkness. My heart races and quickly, I open up the door nearest me and slip in. It's tiny, so tiny, that I can't even breathe that much. The footsteps is definitely more than one pair, but not enough to be a bunch. So the Careers, it isn't. I trace my mind, working out the pairings, but there's no need. Through the crack in the door I left open, I can see two girls, both small. Eleven and Twelve, I think.

But as quick as they appear, they disappear, into another room a few doors down. I let out a sigh of relief, opening the door fully and closing it again.

I can't be caught. Most of the people left are older than me, except Eleven and Twelve. We're the easy pickings, the disposable ones. The Gamemakers are no doubt already making plans to get rid of us three, so their fight can be more intense and bloody.

Down another hallway and the next.

Everywhere turn reveals another, lined with doors, ranging from a few to barely anything, possibly a lot.

But no doors unless necessary.

It's only then do I stop, looking at my surroundings, do I notice that the colours keep moving. Like they're _alive_. I step forward again, eyes tracing the colours, and funny enough, a line of bright pink slices across the wall in sync with my step. Another step, another line of colour, this time a dusty blue, draws across.

I step back towards the opposite wall, focused on the colours.

My breath hitches. My heart beats a lot harder, sweat building on my forehead.

The colours were following me... And as I look closer at the line, it resembles something of a claw. A hand.

I test my theory, side-stepping along the wall to watch the hand with pointy fingers follow, always staying far back so that if I was walking forward, I wouldn't notice, but now, I can tell it stays just behind my body, as if neon tendrils are just reaching and tracing my body, waiting to snare me. I let out a bitter laugh, remembering how I normally suck at seeing the bigger picture.

Looks like the Gamemakers are just _too_ obvious this year.

* * *

**Modessa Lilian.**

At Rowen's request, we leave the room, only to the find the hallway we entered in a little different.

Surge moves forward to inspect the wall that's stopped in the middle of the area, spears slammed into the side. He uses his finger to pull one down and let it quiver, but it's obvious they've been there a while. But that doesn't stop Surge as he inspects every single spear, determined to test each other as to whether they quiver or not. I sigh, watching as he pulls one from the wall and holds it in his hands.

"Don't tell me you want a spear," I scoff. "Seriously, Surge, I can't see you using it very well."

He eyes me up, before dropping it. "Theory."

"What?"

"Theory," Surge repeats himself. "Just testing it out."

"Didn't work." I smirk.

"_Nope_."

Rowen and Bridge soon join us, the former with her smile now constant on her face, contrast to the blind eye and few ghostly scars on her pale skin. She's... She's never looked so happy, really. Now that we've group, we begin to walk down on the opposite hall, but something is up. I can only tell by Surge's constant staring at the walls. I slow down, meeting Surge at the back, not wanting to disrupt Rowen's mood so prematurely or Bridge's glaring at the ceiling.

"Theory?" I mock him playfully.

Surge frowns a little, but continues his stare at the colours on the wall. He moves closer, eyes watchful, before nodding knowingly and clearly taking a mental note, which is so typical Surge, it definitely isn't normal anymore.

"Positive?"

"_Positive_," Surge sighs, before walking again. "The walls."

I look to the walls, not noticing anything, until the colour swirls weirdly. He points closer at it, but a part of me is scared and the other part is worried about the cameras focused in on us. The colours move, like they're alive, before they swirl greedily for our attention, as if silently mocking us. Then, it moves again, arching forward along the way to the way we were planning to walk.

"Don't look directly at it. No idea what it can do."

"Now you tell me," I roll my eyes. "What is it?"

He opens his mouth, ready to respond, when Rowen's scream cuts him off. My head snaps in her direction and everything happens in slow motion.

Bridge pushes her forward harshly, and for a moment, you'd believe he was playing or about to kill her. But then, a cinderblock wall shoots down just before Bridge, cutting Rowen off from us. Then, his body convulses. I have no idea what happens, until I see a few knives whiz through the air past him, just barely missing me and Surge. A cannon booms, and slowly, Bridge peels from the wall, a dozen knives buried into his body haphazardly. A knife in his chest, arm, face and forehead. Everywhere. The knives that didn't hit, fly to the other wall that enclosed the hallway behind us.

Surge stares at Bridge's body horrified but quiet.

I pull at his arm, fighting the sick feeling rising in my stomach. "We have to find another way to Rowen."

"But-"

"_Now_."

* * *

**Misty Liu.**

Beauty leads up front, acting like the de facto leader, though he already have one. Sure, Logan isn't the best and he might not be completely capable, but I'd rather have someone stable and more reliable compared to someone so vain and fame hungry. Though, Beauty doesn't even give Logan that much of a chance. Logan follows behind, the Twos in the middle, me and Caspian bringing up the rear.

"Do you think many are injured or something?" Caspian speaks, staring at the wall.

He turns to look at me. I shrug. "Suppose so. Since that Nine boy, two more cannons and neither was us. So, probably."

"I hope they aren't in pain," Caspian hands me a piece of beef jerky. "I mean, I don't want them to be in pain, you know? It sounds stupid, only one winner and everything, but I suppose quick deaths are more easier than pain. I don't know. Half the time, I don't even know what I'm saying."

"I get that," I laugh. "But yeah, I understand. I always understand. Sometimes, you should just not speak and let me mind-read you."

Caspian laughs, hand another strip of the meat to me. "You know, I wish we met on the outside before coming in here."

"The odds are we might _never_ have met at all if it wasn't for this."

"I'm serious, Mist," Caspian's voice becomes serious and so not like his usual self. "Only one winner. I don't even... I don't like the idea that we both could die or I could die, or even you could die, and yeah. I just-"

"You wish we could have been friends before, because in a matter of days, death is going to happen to at least one of us minimum."

He nods, letting his voice get quieter. "Exactly."

I sigh quietly, noticing how Caspian resembles an injured puppy when he gets upset a little. "But don't worry, Caspian. One of us will win and then, we can just remember the other."

"I suppose," Caspian switches the sword in his hand. "The odds just suck."

"We both volunteered... We _kind of_ deserved it."

"I don't even know why you volunteered, Mist, you never mentioned."

I look Caspian directly in the eyes, noticing the curiosity glossing them. "I want a better life for my sister. She's training, already, and she's not even old. I don't want her to have to ever volunteer. If I can come here, win, then she doesn't have to worry. If I die, then maybe it will put her off. Not the greatest reason, but it's honesty and honesty is not always pretty."

"Better than most of us, then." Caspian sighs.

"Your reason?"

"I don't... I don't really _have_ one," Caspian shrugs, and I quickly take notice of everyone still up front, ignoring us. "I wanted to see what it was like... I'm curious as to why it affects people so much. That's the honest truth."

"And it _isn't_ pretty," I smirk. "It's fine, we all have our reasons and sometimes, you do it for reasons unjustified."

Caspian smiles it off, but I can tell it must be a soft topic. Compared to my reason, probably even the others, Caspian's hasn't got a great one. I have nothing against it, but I can tell he's shamed a little by it not being as heroic like mine or even bloodthirsty or fame-hungry like Beauty and Hollis. But there's nothing to feel shamed about. Caspian _is_ Caspian, and that includes his teenage and witty response to the world.

We all suddenly stop, myself even knocking into Hollis roughly. He gives me a glare, but it doesn't faze me.

"What's up?"

Beauty spins on her heel, smirking and lowering her voice. "I think we've found someone, my dear morons."

I follow her finger, leading down to the hallway to the dark shadow, pounding their fists against an unusual wall, placed in the middle of the hallway. She howls, continuing to thump her fists. It's obvious she's a girl from her screams, but when she steps back into the inky light, it's more clear as to who she is. The girl from Eight, with the blind eye.

She spins around when she notices eyes on her. Her face drains of colour, shimmering in the light from what must be tears.

"Get her!" Beauty bellows.

And all hell breaks loose.

* * *

**Broken by Lifehouse.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Bridge Campbell, District Six.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now we're in the arena. You may vote for your own tribute now. ****Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not. Vote for who you like! Votes in reviews only.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**Just wanna let you guys know, this definitely isn't easy. These tributes are so amazing, I'm genuinely going to cry when I have to kill them all. Gosh. So yeah, expect more painful deaths that will slowly break my heart.**


	11. Dark Paradise

_And there's no remedy for memory your face is,_  
_Like a melody, it won't leave my head,_  
_Your soul is haunting me and telling me,_  
_That everything is fine,_  
_But I wish I was dead._

_Everytime I close my eyes -_  
_It's like a dark paradise._  
_No one compares to you,_  
_I'm scared that you won't be waiting on the other side,_  
_Everytime I close my eyes,_  
_It's like a dark paradise._  
_No one compares to you._

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

She turns around, looking like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and terrified. She stops as we stride over to her, freezes on the spot. A little part of me feels guilty, it's like her district partner all over again, pinned up against a wall and being threatened by us. Without a weapon and without a clue.

"Stupid girl," Beauty sneers. "You're practically _lining_ up to jump on our weapon. Do you want that? Caspian, hand me your sword, lets see if the little girl wants to jump on it."

Caspian doesn't move, but when I look at him, I can see the tension in his jaw.

Eight lets out a little, hollowed gasp, before snapping her eyes back and forth. I follow her track, and whilst she looks trapped, anything could happen right now. In the corner is a door, but I don't even know if anyone can see it, especially her with her one eye.

"Caspian, I said, hand me your sword."

"No," Caspian snaps back. "You _can't_ boss me around."

Beauty spins around, clenching her fists and swiping her head to loosen her blonde curls. "Excuse me? You _do_ as I say."

"I don't do anything _you_ say," Caspian scoffs. "Logan is our leader, probably the only one I would follow. Misty, sure, Andromeda, sure. You and Hollis? I don't think so."

She strides forward, no doubt ready to attack Caspian like she did with Misty, but Misty steps in front, arms crossed over her chest.

"He's right, you know. Logan's our leader. I'm pretty sure no-one ever chose you."

"At least she's capable," Hollis cuts in. "Logan is _pathetic_. We need an actual leader who kills, not someone who cries when they might have to attack."

Hollis looks at me after, cocky grin in place, as if waiting for my recognition or congratulations. I shake my head, because nothing is funny about sticking up for Beauty. Logan's our leader, and frankly, we should have respected that, rather than trying to put him down and knock him off his spot. Beauty thumps her finger into Misty's chest, face a mask of anger.

"You don't say anything, nothing, I warned you that. I'm taking leadership and you need to deal with that."

Misty smirks. "I can do what I want. I'm nobody's play thing... Unlike certain people around here."

Caspian laughs victoriously, clapping his hands together in a mocking, slow pattern. And whilst everyone happens, I see Eight, looking from the corner of her eyes at the door, encased in darkness. She notices me, freezes, but somehow, a part of me manages to nod my head. She mimes me a 'thank you', before sliding in secret and no-one is none the wiser. I couldn't have protected the boy from Eight, but I could his partner. I don't know her, and it would look stupid to anyone, but a torturous murder is just plain wrong. And if she stayed, that's what she would have got.

"Do you know what, I'm sick of this!" Beauty screams.

It doesn't even take a moment for her to lash out. She flies forward, throwing her bow and arrows down angrily, before pouncing on Misty, knocking her to the ground. Her fist flies up, landing on the side of Misty's face. Caspian winces in pain, but is quick to grab Beauty by her shoulders, hauling her off and flinging, like no more than a puppet, against the wall. She bounces off like a ball, and brings out her hand quickly and slapping Caspian across the face.

Logan stands there, petrified, whilst Hollis too, joins in.

He rushes forward, thrusting his palms out against Caspian and knocking him to the ground. Misty tries to get up, but Hollis delivers a strong kick to her stomach, causing her to cry in pain and then, Caspian joining in, though he doesn't get touched. Beauty joins the assault, also kicking her boot into Misty's stomach. Both of Four lay there, breathing heavily and ragged, curled up on the floor, clearly in a lot of pain.

"Thanks, Hollis." Beauty pats his shoulder.

A tinge of jealousy sparks in me. Not for that, Hollis can go screw himself, but for her thinking she can do what she wants, like some shepard leading her oh so dumb sheep around. Not me. I'm _nobody's_ follower.

"Now, I think the alliance is over," Beauty pouts mockingly down at the pair, sickening me. "Four is out. Hollis, pass me my arrows. I feel like carving a little present on our ex-allies. Brand them so they know not to mess with me."

He looks at me, pity in his eyes, but I scoff. He bends to pick them up, but I kick them away bitterly, letting the arrows clang against the wall and roll haphazardly around the concrete flooring.

"Andromeda, don't be like this." Hollis whispers.

I walk over to Caspian and Misty, standing firmly by their lying forms until they rise sheepishly. A part of me feels like I'm doing something wrong. But I know I'm not. In fact, I'm doing the right thing, because right now, if Demetria and Sterling were watching this at home, they'd want me to do this. And for them, I have too.

"If Four is out, so am I. I'd rather be with decent people than airheads and _sheep_," I look to Beauty, jerking a finger at her accusingly. "Come after us, you'll regret it. Your aim might be terrible, but I never, _ever_ miss my target. And your eyes are just so pretty. I'd hate to see you without one, a knife in it's place. So don't threaten me or anything. Just don't follow unless you feel like becoming blind until you bleed to death in the darkness."

"Andi, please," Hollis pleads. "_Stay_. Stay with me."

I shake my head. "No can do, Hollis. This just isn't worth it. _You_ aren't worth it."

With that, Caspian slings Misty's arm over his shoulder, helping her out as we walk away down the hall, split completely. Careers are over.

* * *

**Surge Dalton.**

"I don't know which way we're going," Modessa admits, just as we turn the corner of the hallway. "It could be this way or that."

"Okay."

Modessa laughs a little bitterly. "You don't speak much. You know, I would have _loved_ that back before, but right now, words would be a bit comforting."

I nod, taking note of that. I'm not even that great with my words. I understand it, all in my head, but it's hard to process that from my brain to my mouth so fluently. We turn another corner, and quickly, I check to make sure the colours are still following us. The streaks halt, as if knowing I'm watching, before sliding back a little. People would think I'm crazy if they knew my theory. The colours are following us, watching us, almost as if mobile Gamemakers constantly keeping their watch more personal. Then, when they believe things are getting boring, even just a tad, they set off a trap.

It was watching us, I noticed and made Modessa look, then a wall appears and knives fly out, killing Bridge. But they weren't all for Bridge. The knives were for all of us, they were just off their game a little and poor Bridge was just unlucky.

The backpack on Modessa's back jiggles, and I smile, knowing my ingredients for a poison are in there. They didn't provide any, but I learned enough in training how to create a poison capable of killing someone. Then some darts and blowgun, and right now, the _perfect_ weapon.

We turn yet another corner, before a doorway appears, door already open. Modessa moves forward a little, but I already know what's going to happen.

I leap across the gap, quite badly, wrapping my arms around Modessa's legs and bringing her to the ground.

She lands with a cry and thump, just as a giant, circular blade swings down from the ceiling, right in the path of us.

The colours.

"Thanks," Modessa stands, wiping herself down. "Though, kinda stupid."

"How?"

She laughs bitterly again. "You know, you're _one_ awkward child, Surge. I mean, you could have let me died. One less for you to worry about."

I pause for a moment, letting my mouth drop down a little. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, either, I'm thankful for it," Modessa assures me. "I'm just saying, not a lot of people would do that. Me included."

Is that Modessa's way of telling me she'd let me die? I don't blame her. But I guess something is different. I've never had many friends, none even, and I didn't even think of getting myself an ally. But Modessa made an effort. She approached me, wanted to be my friend, wanted to be my ally. Then Rowen and Bridge joined, and whilst I'm not as close to them as I am with Modessa, but a part of me is sad with Bridge's death. He was a good, strong ally.

"Poor Rowen," Modessa frowns eventually, realising I'm not replying. "She's all on her own. Anyone can find her. She could even be dying right now."

I nod, pointing in the direction of the hallway.

"Yeah yeah, I know, keep moving," Modessa rolls her eyes. "We need to get you to talk some more, you know."

"Sorry."

Another little laugh, before turning around to begin walking. "Still. Rowen needs us, she's a lot more broken then she lets on. A place like this will eat her _whole _on her own."

"Like it does you." I say, aloud.

Quickly, Modessa stops, and I can see the tension rolling along her body, causing her muscles to tighten. This is why I don't talk too much. Foot in mouth, clearly. It's obvious that Modessa is underweight. Ridiculously underweight. Most people think it's natural, maybe she lives in poverty, but from my view, it's obvious she has an eating disorder. Bridge gave her the jerky, she didn't even touch it, but I could see the hunger and disgust in her eyes.

I step forward, ready to place my hand on her shoulder, before she cuts me off.

"_Don't_," Modessa's voice wavers, cracked and broken, as if she's on the verge of crying. "Please Surge, don't."

And so, I don't. Modessa moves again, I keep quiet whilst the tense atmosphere smothers us.

* * *

**Basil Larkspur.**

Once again, I find myself facing the floor, listening to the sounds of metal meeting the concrete walls. I keep quiet, breathing hard, until it finally stops. Pushing myself back onto my knees, I laugh, seeing the large metal sheeting, sliced straight into the wall unceremoniously.

Everytime I think I'm safe, they throw something in the works. It's not easy, I'll admit that, but so far, fingers crossed, everything is going well. A floor wanting to eat me, cleared. Metal sheeting, cleared. More tricks? Bring it. Soon enough, after some more walking and doors, I find the large room we started in, Cornucopia glistening in the middle of the inky light. I smile, crossing the room in large steps, determined to find a weapon.

The mouth is still full to the brim with everything. Swords, knives, boxes and backpacks.

"Strange," I frown. "Why didn't the Careers take anything?"

I scoop up a backpack, checking the contents. Some food, a blanket, some wire and a bowl. I throw it over my back, picking up what seems to be a sheath of knives. I roll open the plastic, noticing the array of knives, ranging in size and shape. I slide it into my pants, searching some more.

My heart stops as I hear the slam of a door.

I freeze, scooting into the Cornucopia's mouth some more.

Bending behind a large crate, I watch as half the Careers, the pair from One and the boy from Two, enter the room. They stop, mumbling some, before I even realise that they're all holding deadly weapons, like they should. I crouch lower, just as they begin to approach.

But they haven't noticed me.

"Hollis, grow up," the girl from One seethes, anger laced in her voice. "She didn't even _like_ you that way. She didn't appreciate you, like I do."

"Not the point. I loved her and she brushed me off like I was nothing."

One steps a little closer, running her hand down his arm. "As I said, she didn't appreciate you. You deserve better, Hollis, and by that, I mean _me_."

The boy from One, Logan I think, sits down in the middle of the room, holding his large... Stick? In his hands, rolling it around in his palms. They haven't noticed me, and I can't help but smile at that as I back up more, deeper into the shadows.

"Logan?" One calls from over her shoulder. "Don't sit down, we aren't staying. We're collecting some more weapons and going to hunt before them lot get back."

He doesn't respond, almost in a trance.

"Logan!" One shouts. "I said, _get the fuck up_!"

Obediently, Logan gets up, hanging his head low. Hollis lets out a dark chortle, flipping his mace around, and instantly, you can tell he's over his little lovesickness.

"Maybe Andromeda was right," Hollis tilts his head. "Maybe some people are sheep. Right, Logan? Are there some _sheep_ in our alliance?"

Logan doesn't respond, but it's obvious he's bullied. But back in training, I was almost sure that he was the leader, not the underling. I guess things change when you're all bloodthirsty.

"I think you're right. I think there are some sheep," Beauty saunters forward. "_Baa_ for me, Logan."

I step back just a bit more, but my invisibility breaks. I hit what must be a sword, stood up, which clangs to the floor. My heart hammers as I stay still, but I notice the looks of the Careers, facing in my direction. That it's for me. I got cocky, and now, I'm dead. Luckily, though, something stirs up in Logan.

In a wild rage, he screams angrily, flying straight for the pair that have their eyes focused on the mouth I'm hidden in, and luckily, not him. He raises his stick, which now looks like a staff, and swings it straight into his district partner's side. She screams and then, he does in what might be mocking pain, as she falls to the floor. Hollis spins around, but Logan slams his stick straight into his shoulder blade. Hollis hisses, but Logan doesn't stop. He raises the staff, slams it down. Up and down. Up and down. Soon enough, when he raises it into the dark light, you can see the splatter of red. One more swing. Another. Another.

A cannon booms as Logan lets out an animal like holler.

And like that, Hollis is _dead_.

He pants hard, looking down at the mutilated body of his former ally, ragged breaths coupled with a few chokes, beet red face sweating. He turns around, but his district partner has vanished, obviously disappearing during his attack. It takes a while for him to leave, tired, but he does. I watch the metal teeth eat Hollis and whisk him away, but I don't move. I stay there, eyes fixated on the crimson puddle left behind.

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

Andromeda screamed before panting a little hard, bent over, but when Misty went to help her weakly, Andromeda flinched. At first, I thought it was just Hollis, but clearly, it's everyone. She stayed like that, then when the cannon happened, she became fine.

"Are you okay?" Misty asks with an edge of weakness in her voice as Andromeda straightens herself up.

I instantly remember the pain I felt when Misty got kicked and attacked like that. It was horrible. "Yeah, you seemed a little, odd."

"Hollis is dead."

"That was his cannon?" I ask, a little shocked.

Andromeda nods, laughing bitterly. "Yep. I just know it was him. You know these bracelets? I think it has something to do with your partner. Obviously, Beauty must have turned on him and killed him. That's why I freaked. It was like my body was on fire, burning away at my nerves."

"Well, _that_ explains the whole punching incident," Misty remarks. "Hitting me then flinching yourself."

And the pain I felt when Beauty and Hollis assaulted Mist. It's like a pain pairing. Punished for our partner being injured.

"But what makes you think he's dead and not just injured?"

"It got stronger and stronger, then right at the end, it was like a sizzle. Like when you put out a fire and the last flame dying in a pop. That's what happened," Andromeda shakes herself off. "His flame died. You kind of, you kind of just know. It's hard to explain so don't worry."

A part of me wants to mention that I might understand, if Misty ever dies, or she might if I died.

Andromeda walks on ahead. I smile to Misty as she hobbles over.

"I'm kind of shocked that Andromeda joined us, you know," I laugh quietly. "I thought she'd stick with them."

Misty shrugs. "She clearly understands us more. Plus, I have nothing against her, do you?"

"I like her, so no, not really."

"_Exactly_," Misty smirks. "So stop worrying and just keep going."

I look to Misty's arm, clutching her stomach, where a part of me feels a bit guilty. I grab her shoulder, the curiousity pulling at me too much.

"Are you bruised?" I ask strongly.

She looks taken back, but sighs heavily, lifting up her white shirt to show off a large, moldy green bruise across her ribs. I gingerly poke it, which she seethes angrily.

"I-I think it might be broken," Misty admits, her voice broken and not like her. "I think t-they broke my ribs, Casp."

Andromeda stops, having heard our conversation, before she sighs and comes back. She grits her teeth, jawline tense, before she snakes herself underneath Misty's arm and helps her out. I can tell she hates the contact with all her might, but she swallows it down, letting me take the other side as we lead Misty down the hallway.

* * *

**Ember Auger.**

Finally, we find a room we can rest in. I sit down, Maybelle close by, as I clean the knife on the sides of my pants. Maybelle's eyes stay wide, terrified, like she's constantly seeing the image of the blade diving into Komara's body, over and over again, on repeat.

"It's okay," I soothe her. "Komara had it coming. She deserved to die, May."

"...Does that mean _I_ deserve to die?"

I'm a little taken back, but I look at her, eyes still fixated into the distance.

"Of course you don't deserve to die. Don't be silly."

"But you said it," Maybelle speaks quietly and vulnerable, but with a questionable side to her. "You said she deserved to die. She was a kid, like us."

I pause for a moment, debating my answer. She's young, she's impressionable, so I should be careful. "I didn't mean it like that. No-one deserves to die. Not you, not me, not Komara and not any of the others in here with us. But with Komara, when she's threatening your life and wanting you dead, then she _does_ kinda deserve it. She stripped herself of her innocence by doing that, Maybelle. If someone is going to do something so horrible like that, then they don't deserve to stay alive. She wanted you dead when she's four years older than you."

"But you killed her," Maybelle replies timidly. "You killed her. You stripped yourself of innocence when you done that. Does that mean _you_ deserve to die?"

"I don't know," I respond, realising how I've kinda screwed this conversation up. "I guess I do, then. But it was in self-defense. Maybe she didn't deserve to die, you're right, but she shouldn't have done what she did. She shouldn't have threatened someone so young. And, I guess, a maternal part of me wanted to make it right, even though I took her life."

She nods slowly, absorbing the information.

"I'm sorry, you know."

She looks at me, a little water glossing her large brown eyes. "What?"

"You shouldn't be exposed to this. You shouldn't have to see people die, more so me killing someone."

Maybelle nods again. "I forgive you."

I smile. "I know you do. That's because you're _too_ sweet."

"Ember?"

"Yeah?"

"Does that mean, I know you don't mean it when you say she deserves to die, but does that mean that a lot more of the others out there, they might deserve it?"

"They might," I shrug my shoulders. "But as we've cleared up, no-one deserves to die. But sometimes, in situations, to do something right you have to do something wrong. To save your life, I had to kill. The others, out there somewhere, might have to do the same. We're all trying to get home, one way or another, and none of it is right. Our intentions are _right_, our actions are _wrong_. Yet, we can't do anything about it because, at the end of the day, everyone wants to go home. No-one wants to die."

Without warning, Maybelle latches on to me, arms wrapped around my waist. I go to hug back, but it's short, before she leans away and pants.

I look around the room, the streaks of colours on the wall, before slowly, I find myself hard at breathing. I pant just a little bit harder, clutching my chest, feeling like it's constricting. I look to Maybelle, noticing her do the same, hands around her throat. I hear a grinding noise, before standing up, going towards the door. Maybelle watches me with curious eyes, but as I pull the handle, it doesn't budge. It's solid, shut, trapping us in.

Panic rises in me.

I tug and tug, then, the grinding noise gears up to a louder volume.

I look around, just in time to see the walls on either side, me and Maybelle in the middle, begin to move inwards towards us.

My eyes find Maybelle's which are wild and scared.

She knows too. There's no way out.

We're _trapped_.

* * *

**Dark Paradise by Lana Del Ray.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Hollis Brood, District Two.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now we're in the arena. You may vote for your own tribute now. ****Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not. Vote for who you like! Votes in reviews only.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**It's a little shorter, but the time for that has come, since I can't do as many POV's anymore and we're slowly but surely meeting halfway. So, I'm really sorry, but it's going to be a little shorter than normal as more die!**


	12. Disturbia

_It's a thief in the night to come and grab you,  
It can creep up inside you and consume you,  
A disease of the mind, it can control you.  
It's too close for comfort_

_Put on your pretty lies, you're in the city of wonder,  
Ain't gon' play nice, watch out you might just go under,  
Better think twice, your train of thought will be altered._

_So if you must falter be wise._

* * *

**Ember Auger.**

Panic is quick to grip my heart, hammering away. My hand pulls and pulls, desperate, the walls edging closer and closer. Maybelle lets out a small, choked shriek, standing up and running at one of the walls, her tiny hands trying to push it back as it continues to lurch forward.

"Ember!" Maybelle cries.

I pull again, the walls deathly close. The handle doesn't budge, and from the corner of my eyes, I can still see the colours blurring along the walls.

Soon enough, Maybelle is next to me, herself trying to pull on the handle. But there is no way out. We're trapped, walls coming closer without hesitation People sometimes say your life flashes before your eyes, and it could be true, because suddenly, I see my life back in Twelve, working hard at the bakery to earn just a bit more money, just enough, to go and spend on a dinner that would feed people. The smell of the rising bread, the cobblestone streets around the Merchants area, the coughing and sickness, the mines, the soot constantly drifting in the air and the pristine, white uniforms of our Peacekeepers.

"There!" Maybelle shouts, loud enough to snap me out of my trance as the wall gets closer to the door.

I follow her small finger, pointing at an almost hidden button, tucked away in the fold of the door. I'm quick to press it, and with a thump, the walls come to a halt, squeaking.

I look to Maybelle, seeing the soft tears roll down her cheeks. I wipe one away with a sad smile, opening the door finally.

"It's okay, May," I soothe her. "We're okay now."

She steadies herself, walking out, but her legs are clearly unstable from the shock. Wrapping my arms around her shoulder, knife tucked away in my boot, I lead her down the darkened hallway. She doesn't say anything, her breathing harsh and ragged.

She _knows_ the end is coming near. Sooner or later, I might not be there for her. She could even die before me.

And deep down, I know it is too.

* * *

**Beauty D'Avanzo.**

I hate Logan. Him, Misty, Caspian and Andromeda are all dead when I find them. I stumble across the hall, holding my side with one hand, my bow and arrows with the other. His stick, his giant staff, is impressive. I never actually thought he'd be able to handle it properly. I just assumed he would carry it around to look threatening, just because, well, Logan isn't threatening at all. At least Hollis had the looks to make him seem murderous. Logan looks like a grown-up baby.

"Fuck," I groan, rubbing my side again and swishing my head to knock the curls from my eyes. "I'll kill him next."

The arrows within my satchel shake, rattle, quivering against each other.

In the distance, I see a shadow, walking along the walls, tracing their hand against it. I smile, carefully pulling an arrow, loading it up. Their shadow plays against the floor, but the colours light it up enough to show that it's a boy. A little boy. Young.

Absolutely perfect.

I pull back the notch, bringing it to my lip, and letting it go.

It carves through the air, but not surprisingly, it just misses the shadow. Their head snaps in my direction, and as I can see properly, I know it's the boy from Five.

He stays still, frozen, and before I know it, another arrow is loaded into my bow and Five is already running, me chasing him like the predator I've been trained to do. I send the next one, its whistle catching the air, but Five manages to duck as my aim improves. He stops, hitting a dead-end wall, but I don't. I continue running, throwing myself into the air, smashing against him and then into the wall. He falls, I stand up, and with an evil glare, I stare down at him.

"Thought you could run," I pout mockingly. "How cute. And you're so little, I almost feel bad for doing this. Come to think of it, I was aiming for you when I got the girl from Three. It's almost ironic, now, that a part of me wants to spare you, but I didn't earlier. Funny that, huh?"

His eyes snaps into a mild glare. "Y-You think you're tough. Y-You think you're indestructible."

"Awh, I _know_ I am sweetheart," I curl my fingers around another arrow, slipping it out. "That's why I'm a sure Victor."

I lower the arrow, directing it over his pretty little temple, wanting his body constrict with fear. I love it. I love the power I can get, just from the district I'm from. Most people think One's are dumb, airheads and nothing but sex appeal.

I'm all that, and more.

I'm a trained killer. My looks get me places, my training gets me even further. That's why I'm a survivor, and the rest are simply bait.

"Any last words?" I sneer, pulling the string back.

His mild glare disappears, a small smirk forming on his face, causing me to frown in confusion. "_Duck_."

Without warning, I snap my head around to see if something is coming, but there's nothing but the haunting echo of the arena. And clearly, that's what he wants. Five's little leg kicks out, catching me enough to knock me down to my knee. He's up, quick, smacking the bow and arrow from my hand and preparing to run.

My hand wraps around his ankle, bringing him to the floor with a thud as my other hand curls for another arrow.

But just as I reach it, Five kicks again, squirming for my grasp and sprinting down the hallway. By the time I get my arrow, he's gone, and with anger burning inside me, I shoot an arrow blindly down the way, just to see if I catch something.

Feeling deflated, I move down the hall, open a door, and slip inside.

Nothing but another door.

I do the same, finding another hallway, even longer and wider than the others. I was so close. That's two now, that I've allowed to slip past me and survive just a little bit longer than they should. If anything, these games should be over with already. It was the others that brought me down. Logan with his pathetic solitude, not wanting to hurt anyone. Misty and her stupid principles. Caspian and Andromeda believing he's better than us all.

Hollis was the only decent one.

And he was wasted on Andromeda, anyway.

She didn't appreciate how _incredible_ he really was.

I motion down another corner, keeping an arrow already locked, prepared to fly at a sack of meat and blood. After about 10 minutes, or so it seems, I hear their hushed whispers, and know I've found my prey. I snake my head around the bend, seeing the three of them, just inches away from me. Standing there, in a group, two on their feet, another slumped against the wall.

Caspian, Misty and Andromeda.

Getting too close would be dangerous. Caspian would slice me, there and then, and I'd be screwed. But being open means Andromeda could find me with her knife, and clearly, her 12 was deemed for her impeccable aim.

I slide the arrow back, feeling the rush of excitement inside me, making me feel jittery with the anticipation of killing a Career.

Without another word, I creep a little closer, ready to expel one of my ex-allies from the competition, and more importantly, life itself.

* * *

**Misty Liu.**

Caspian hobbles me towards the wall, sitting me down. It hurts to breathe. It's a struggle. And deep down, someone in those eyes of Caspian, he knows I'm not going to last long without medical attention. They're glossed with worry, but I know he must have already accepted the fact that, sooner or later, the pair from Four will no longer be a pair.

"I think we should keep moving soon," Andromeda says quietly. "Further away from Beauty, the better."

"We could take her if she came here, though," Caspian shrugs, shuffling in a backpack for something. "If she's on her own, the three of us, she'd be stupid to take us on."

"T-That's actually what she is, though," I pipe up. "She's stupid and reckless, and I wouldn't put it past her for hunting us down. We're not actually on her favourite list."

Caspian stares at me, catching my little trip of words. He looks so hurt by it. Andromeda looks as well, but I don't see as much sympathy in her as I do with Caspian. We've been together in this since the beginning. We might not be the same, inside or outside the arena, but we depended on each other. We needed other, in a sense and we understood each other. I probably knew Caspian better than he knew himself.

"That doesn't mean we can't take her. Andromeda could spike her with a knife, just like that, right Andi?"

Andromeda nods curtly, still looking down the hallways. "Yeah. I _guess_. But I'm not keen on being open all around."

"How about a room then?" I cut in, seeing Caspian's worried glare at me.

"I think that's better," Andromeda shrugs. "At least we can guard each way, just in case she sneaks in. You know Beauty, she's like a cockroach, just _scurrying_ her way in without warning."

Caspian smirks as Andromeda moves a little bit more down a hallway that seems to have captured her attention. His smirk turns to a sad smile as he looks at me, and for once in my life, I feel truly guilty for doing all of this to him, picking the fights with Beauty for no other reason then my hatred for her.

"A-Are you in pain?" I ask weakly.

Caspian shrugs his shoulders. "Not really. I mean, it's like a numbing sensation across my chest."

"Sorry," I force a weak laugh, which cheers him up a little. "D-Don't be sad."

"I'm not sad," Caspian sounds undecided. "I just... I didn't want this to happen to you. This isn't _fair_ on you. M-Maybe we could get a sponsor to hand over some medicine or something?"

I want to tell him that no, no-one is going to send money to me when I'm basically as good as dead, but I don't. I know for a fact that Lagoon will understand where I'm coming from, saving the money for a dire need if Caspian needs it.

Without word of warning, as Andromeda stares absently at the hallway, something metal glints the air. Andromeda has enough time to shout something, before a large, metal sheet sweeps across the hallway. Caspian and Andromeda drop to the floor quickly, but it isn't enough. I watch as she turns the corner, flashes a smile, then aims her metal arrowhead at Caspian's crouched form.

With as much strength as possible, I throw myself across the gap, jumping over Caspian and feeling the sharp, burning sensation rip through my body. I cry out in pain, Caspian does as well, and somewhere in the distance, I hear Beauty's cackle drift down another hallway. Blackness takes over my eyes, but I watch Andromeda get up, nod something to Caspian, then run off after Beauty.

Caspian takes my head in his lap, pressing down his hands around the pierced arrow to stop the blood.

"M-Mist... Y-You're going to be o-okay..."

I shake my head, forcing another weak smile. "I-I'm not. D-Do it for me, C-Casp. W-Win for m-me..."

I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks, and somewhere in the distance, I hear my cannon sound.

* * *

**Elle Cludiant.**

"Here, eat some of this," Corvus turns, throwing an apple at me from the Cornucopia. "Get some strength."

I pick it up, give it a rub and then a bite. It was Corvus' idea to come back and try something for the Cornucopia. Surprisingly, when you want to find it, it's pretty easy to find. Almost as if it gets placed just to fit your need for it. I'm not complaining, without finding this, we would have had no food. And if I was on my own, I'd be even worse.

Just then, I hear another cannon sound throughout the arena. Corvus sighs, digging around the boxes and packs the Careers so stupidly left behind.

"How long do you think we've been in here?" I shout to Corvus as he ventures deeper.

After a moment, he pops back up, holding an impressive sword in his hands. "Not sure. It's _weird_, come to think of it. I haven't slept properly yet, so maybe not _that_ long."

I take another bite. We're not far from halfway. So far, eleven dead, including the one most recent. I've seen the anthem about three times, ten of the faces. Boy from Two, the little girl from Three, Bridge, Cypress, boy from Eight, the pairs from Nine and Ten, and bringing up the rear, the boy from Twelve. Neither me nor Corvus have our district partners. Slowly but surely, we've been nibbled down to almost half left.

"Maybe we should catch some proper sleep then. We've only had catnaps."

Corvus smiles softly, switching the sword or an even deadly-looking hatchet, which he flips in his hand appreciatively. "You can sleep, if you want. I'll do the first watch. Better yet, sleep inside the Cornucopia. It'd be _ironic_ that they provided your shelter."

"Ironic," I fight back the laugh. "Okay, wake me to switch or if you need help."

As I walk in and he walks out, he smiles again, but rather than soft, it's his cocky, snarky smile that I saw when we first bumped into each other. "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite."

I climb behind some crates, finding a space, curling up with my spear next to me, just in case of an emergency. Soon, I fall into the place between awake and asleep, drifting around. I'm too far on edge and wary to even sleep properly. His words about bed bugs push me back to memories in Six, curled up in bed on a hectic, smoky morning, hearing the bustle of the streets outside. Every year, the reapings would come and the noise would almost stop. Everyone would go quiet, stop their work, ready to say goodbye to two more children, watch the families break down, before returning back to work as if nothing ever happened.

Somehow, I found those the most peaceful mornings, because I always assumed I'd be safe.

I'll be lucky to ever experience that again.

Soon enough, I fall properly, feeling slightly secure knowing that Corvus is just on the outside.

But as my eyes open, maybe an hour or so later, I find myself face to face with Corvus, his sleeping form next to mine and an arm draped over mine. I could almost ring his neck and snuggle myself into his body at the same time, but then, I hear a door open and the patter of footsteps.

Someone has _finally_ found us. And someone is going to _die_, right here, right now.

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

After a ton of stumbling around, avoiding everyone and everything, I found a Career. And not even the mild looking, actually teenage Careers. I found one of those psychotic, murderous looking ones. Worse thing is, she's not only a girl, but a vain, _screw loose_ girl.

And somehow, I managed to avoid her. I laugh a little, remembering the moment I outsmarted her, before snapping my head around to make sure no-one is nearby.

Murderous, but _not_ a genius.

I turn a corner, constantly checking over to watch the streaks of colours follow me. It's almost like a homing thing. Constantly making sure I don't slip away, that if things get boring, they know how to spark things out and make it exciting.

Sadly, I must be lacking in the entertainment department because just when I feel safe after the whole attack with her from One, I hear a grinding noise that brings me to a halt. I stop, throw myself against the wall, and wait. Within a second, a spear slashes straight past me, making a quivering noise as it collides with a wall in the darkness. My breathing gets hard, but sneakily, I slip into a room near me quietly.

When you're paranoid, it isn't good. Being paranoid before entering a place like this only makes it a _lot_ worse.

When I turn around, I'm faced with the golden glint of the Cornucopia. On instinct, I duck back outside, but just as I'm about to close the door silently, I hear another crack open. The girl from Two and the boy from Four step out, the latter holding his swords, one in each hand. Although, compared to her angry eyes and face, he looks rather sedated, even a bit upset.

"At least she's not in pain anymore," Two speaks numbly. "She's safe."

He grunts in response, heading over to the horn of plenty. Now I know the recent cannon must have been the girl from Four, then. But as he gets closer to the darkness, a figure leaps out, a spear in hand. It takes a second to realise it's the girl from Six, another to see the clear anger in her face. I haven't even seen her since the gong rang out.

She throws herself at Four, jabbing wildly with her spear. He dodges pretty impressively, though he is a Career, not even fighting back. The girl from Two launches a knife, with slices across her leg, but not deep enough. Just a little, skin cut. It takes her off-guard, but Four doesn't attack her. He stands there, looking at her as if waiting for her to rise, before another shadow leaps from the horn.

Seven.

He has a large, silver hatchet that he swings at Four. From this distance, I can almost see a ghost of a smile on Four's face as he collides his sword back, metal on metal. Six is up, though, throwing her spear at Two. She tucks out the way easily, throws a knife that Six dodges awkwardly but gaining another cut, as Six runs and thrusts her to the floor.

They fight for a moment, when an ear-splitting scream brings them to a halt. Six stops, thrown on the floor by Two, as she turns around to see her ally, Seven, on the floor with a large, bleeding hole in his knee, a sword stabbed through his lower stomach. Four staggers back, other sword in hand and slightly confused, before he dashes off through another door, Two closely behind him.

She's quick to get to Seven, but you can tell it's already too late. The ruby coloured blood pools around his knee, up his body and matting his hair. A lot of blood gone, like that.

"You'll be okay, Corvus," Six soothes him, stroking his blood soaked hair. "You can _survive_."

He groans and squirms, but doesn't say anything. He motions his hand for her to come down, and slowly, she pushes away the soaked locks to kiss his forehead.

Nothing gets said. She stays there, next to him, saying nothing as she continues to stroke his hair. Then, his cannon sounds and his death is confirmed straight after when the anthem blares, the seal appears, showing the faces of both the girl from Four, confirming my suspicious, and Seven.

Halfway there. Twelve to go.

The more that die, the closer _I_ get to going home.

* * *

**Maybelle Kailan.**

I watch as the face of the boy from Seven curls into a darkness, bouncing away from the walls. Two more gone. And then there's me, Maybelle Kailan only twelve years old, still alive thanks to someone who seems to risk everything for me.

"We'll avoid rooms from now on," Ember jokes lightly, her arm still draped over mine. "Stick to the hallways, where it's a little safer."

I want to tell her that no matter what, we aren't safe. But I know she knows that. Something I've learned about Ember is that she knows a lot, but seems to sweeten everything for me to protect me. I like it, because it's what I need. But I do know that we aren't safe, _far_ from it.

"I mean, so far we've been lucky. No tributes have found us."

I force a soft smile when she looks at me, waiting for an answer. "Yeah."

"We'll keep to that," Ember smiles a bit more, but it's obvious it's more false for my sake. "Yeah, we'll keep avoiding everyone and it won't be _so_ bad."

If only it would be that easy. Ember turns me around a corner, checking herself before she actually leads me around. She's trying her hardest to protect me, even fight, just like she did when she killed Komara. I know she done it for me. She murdered someone for me. She risked her morals and intentions, to save a little, hopeless girl. No-one else would ever do that for me, when I could be taken out, just like that.

Suddenly, my heart goes cold when I hear a growl. Ember's grip on me tightens, her fingernails digging into my shoulder blade.

Another growl.

Slowly, Ember turns her head to face the darkness behind us, the direction of the growl.

Another growl.

She begins to push me behind her, but I'm not going to always let her protect me. I force myself against the grip and push, staying by her side, when a flash of light pink flickers from within the shadows. It grows, bigger and bigger, taller than me and Ember, even some of the bigger tributes I've seen. It stops, growls again, and moves into the darkness.

I take note of the candyfloss pink fur, the long, blackened claws that stick out from it's paws. The growl, low and deep, hidden behind a muzzle coated in a hungry saliva. Dark red eyes staring down at me and Ember. Its mouth opens, showing off impressive, sharpened teeth.

Ember lets out a shaky breath, my skin going cold against hers.

It's a mutt.

A pink bear mutt.

It was _only_ a matter of time before the weakest were about to be picked off.

* * *

**Disturbia by Rihanna.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Misty Liu, District Four.**

**Corvus Shade, District Seven.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now we're in the arena. You may vote for your own tribute now. ****Anyone can vote, whether you have a tribute or not. Vote for who you like! Votes in reviews only.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**Sorry the wait was long. I really struggled on who should die next, and well, I want to keep things realistic. Misty got a lot of votes to be saved, but I just don't think someone with broken ribs would have lasted long... **

**Corvus' death was picked out of a hat, just because I had no idea what direction to take... It's okay, I'm back on track now, at the cost of Corvus' life... Sorry, Corvus!**

**The bear mutts are in fact, teddy bears, thus, the pink fur instead of normal colours. :)**


	13. Wild Horses

_I feel these four walls closin' in, _  
_My face up against the glass, _  
_Im looking out, hmm. _  
_Is this my life I'm wonderin', _  
_It happened so fast. _  
_How do I turn this thing around? _  
_Is this the bed I chose to make? _  
_Its greener pastures i'm thinkin' about, hmm. _  
_Wide open spaces far away. _

_All I want is the wind in my hair, _  
_To face the fear but not feel scared._

* * *

**Maybelle Kailan.**

It creeps forward, stalking us, blood red eyes trained on our figures. Bit by bit, it's form appears, pulling out from the darkness. It's large, and like I said, bigger than all the tributes in here. At first, I thought it might be the size of a large dog, but no. Oh no. It's a lot larger and more intimidating. Another growl, and slowly, Ember wraps her hand around my wrist tightly.

"On the count of three, we'll run..." Ember whispers. "One... Two..."

But rather than saying three, the beast must understand. It's growl turns into a full roar, and remarkably quick, it leaps towards us, claws ready to dig into something. Ember screeches, yanking me by my wrist towards the ground. I feel the brush of fur against my head, but before I can register anything, Ember's pulling me up and running desperately down the hall. The sound of my heart pounds against my head, drowning pretty much everything out. I hear Ember's moans and cries, the haunting footsteps of the creature making chase.

We duck around a corner, my shoulder clipping the wall and causing me to cry in pain.

"Maybelle, we have to keep moving!" Ember encourages me, still tugging. "We have to survive!"

Tears stream down my face, blurring my vision rapidly. "I-I-I can't!"

"You _have_ too!"

We pull around corner, and luckily, a door seems to be right there, waiting for us. It's almost suspicious, but right now, we don't have the time to be picky. Ember's quick to open the door, throw me in, duck in herself and then silently, she closes the door behind me.

The footsteps from outside skid to a halt, just outside the thin layer hiding us. Ember turns, places her finger to her lips to quiet me down, but I can't stop the pathetic cries I want to scream instead. I need my mommy. I'm not made for this. I'm not capable of hurting someone, fighting for my life, running from sadistic, pink teddy bears that want to play around with my insides. Ember moves over, the sound of the creature sniffing filling the gap around the door.

"Everything is going to be fine, May."

I try to fight the tears, but they continue to slip past. "Y-You k-keep saying that and its n-not."

Ember's voice goes lower, on the verge of breaking, but she tries her best to stick to being strong. "I know, I know. You have to keep believing it for it to come true."

A tear slides down from one of her puffy eye, across her pale cheek, splashing on the floor, joining my tears. "I-I'm going to d-d-die."

She's quick to wrap me in a hug, tight, comforting, just like back at home, and slowly, I let my arms travel around her waist and respond.

Ember pulls back, forcing the best smile she can, illuminated by the colourful walls, a protective glimmer in her reddened eyes. "_Not_ if I can help it."

Again, the girl who seems to do everything to protect, is offering her life for mine.

But just as things seem to calm down, the door breaks apart, splinters flying in every direction, the beast standing tall with blood-lusting eyes. Ember slides the knife from her pocket, holding it out with a shaky hand. It creeps forward again, slamming its paws against the concrete flooring. Ember jabs the silver blade out to thin air, trying to warn the creature off, but it doesn't work. It just grows, continuing to tilt its head and let its eyes constantly stare us down.

Then, like an animal, it lunges without warning.

This time, Ember isn't so quick.

She manages, just barely, to push me out the way, but I feel a claw pierce my skin and drag across my arm, drawing blood. I scream again, and when I look to Ember whose getting up from her feet, she looks just as worse. She's quick to jab the beast again, and this time she does land skin, drawing pink, sickening blood, like bubblegum oozing from within. The creature howls. Ember grabs my wrist and makes another run again, but as per usual, the beast chases us. My heart thumps so fast, it could break from my chest at any second.

Somehow, we manage to clear enough distance, but it's still coming.

Ember stops by a door, getting down onto her knees, wiping away my tears.

"Maybelle, look at me, look at me," Ember's eyes are soft, compassionate. "You get behind that door and you stay there. You don't move until you know it's safe."

I open my mouth to protest, but Ember brings her finger to it.

"No, Maybelle, don't question it. Stay in that room and hide. If there's another door, go to it, and wait for the right moment," Ember places a kiss to my forehead. "Promise me that?"

It takes a while to force the lump in my throat away, but I manage it long enough to nod.

"Okay. Well then," Ember stands up, preparing her knife in a shaky but determined glint in her eye. "Wish me good luck. Stay safe, Maybelle."

I hear the pounding footsteps once more, edging closer, closer, closer. Louder, louder, louder.

"_Now_!" Ember screams, and guiltily, I open the door and jump in the room, pressing my back to it as I hear the footsteps stampeding downwards.

Ember lets out a battle cry, before I hear her strong voice turn into a scream. I hear the snarling, tearing, crunching sounds. I curl up into a ball, holding my hands to my ears to drown out the noise. It can't be true. This isn't happening. Ember isn't dying. But her screams and the obvious sound of ripping flesh overpowers my thoughts, pressing hot against my brain. I let the tears slide silently down my face, until finally, the noises stop.

Maybe she didn't die. Maybe, after everything, they might keep her alive. It's possible. Anything is possible in here. Hope builds inside me, and slowly, I stand up, because maybe she was saved.

Then, mockingly, Ember's cannon booms.

I freeze, allowing the tears to come full force. And now, I'm all _alone_.

* * *

**Logan Voss.**

I squeeze my eyes shut, the memory of killing Hollis and attacking Beauty so clear in my mind. I don't know what came over. No-one, nobody, has ever spoken to me like that before. Treated me like such dirt. I just saw red. They carried on and on, mocking me with each and every single acidic word that trailed from their mouths. I said nothing and did nothing. I was suppose to be the leader, yet I was never in control. She just walked all over me, constantly, digging her heels into my back.

Swallowing the guilt down, I adjust the staff in my hand.

It mocks me, and closely, I look at Hollis' crimson blood staining the end in patches. I didn't even _think_ I had it in me, anymore.

For years, I held down that terrible anger. I never, ever let it get control of me again. It was horrible, like a fire constantly burning inside, crisping against your organs. A beast waiting to be unleashed. A monster, deep inside, laughing wickedly at your attempts to stay under control.

I promised her I wouldn't ever let anger get the better of me. Never in my life would I want to betray that promise.

And yet, I did.

But a lot worse. I didn't just hurt someone like I did before. No. For the first time in my life, I actually killed someone. The thought pleases the darker side of my mind, the side that wants to murder everyone and everything in sight. The other half can't stop dancing pictures of Kaleigh, her innocent, wide eyes staring down at me, asking me over and over again - _"Why did you do it, Logan? You promised me you wouldn't hurt anyone. You promised."_

The guilt I swallowed down resurfaces, and for a moment, I have to stop and take a breath, just because it's getting too much.

I run my free hand through my blonde curls, adjusting them to look a bit better.

Yet, as I move, Kaleigh is still there, still watching, and I can't help but smile and feel sick at her image. I let her down, her promise, I broke it.

That's why Beauty and everyone says I look conflicted about volunteering. I was conflicted. I still am. I needed to volunteer, I needed to do something with my life, and since jobs in One are hard to come by unless you have a rich family, which I don't as well as being fatherless, this was one of the only options. Yet, even running up to that stage, all I could imagine was Kaleigh. Would she _really_ be proud of me? Or would she be upset, that violence was going to happen, even if I did decide on a cleaner path?

Once again, I need to stop and take a breath.

Being in here, trapped, things coming around every corner... It plays tricks on your mind.

Everything suddenly becomes worse, heightened, like a life-ending crisis because technically, you are in life-ending crisis.

I hear a small, distanced roar, which causes me to freeze on the spot. I hate the dark. Always have, always will. Everyone should be afraid of things you can't see, and the darkness, it hides almost everything. Turning around slowly, fear gripping my heart, I raise my staff in time to see a giant, pink animal launch at me.

It takes me down, pretty quickly, and somehow, I manage to get out from underneath. It takes but a moment to realise that it's a mutt, sent to end me, but that isn't going to work. I've already broke my promise to Kaleigh, and as much as I feel guilty, I need to win. Raising my staff, I run at the bear with its mouth open, snarling, and smack down as hard as possible right between the eyes. It shakes its head, swiping with a paw which catches me across the stomach, drawing blood. I yell, but not without trying to hit it again.

Then, it _stops_.

It growls again, but slowly, it stalks backwards away from me, back into the shadows.

I blink a few times, confused by what happened... What did just happen? Gamemakers somewhere must have called it off for some reason.

Not that I'm complaining.

But nothing stops Kaleigh's image from returning. Nothing. And as I continue to walk down the hallway, knowing that Hollis' blood is stained on my skin, I make myself a promise. No more killing. No more hurting.

This is the Hunger Games and for now, I will win, but with as much of the promise as I can hold onto.

For Kaleigh's sake. My baby sister.

* * *

**Modessa Lilian.**

The darkness looms in the distance, and from the cannon earlier, I'm almost tempted to not go down there. But Surge insists, of course, without actually saying a word. He just points, signalling like some toddler about what he wants.

"You're quite spoilt," I joke lightheartedly, gaining no response. "Again, sometimes, I wish you could talk."

"I'm not used to it."

I spin around, trying my hardest not to just frown at him. "Excuse me? You're not used to, what, talking?"

Surge shrugs. "People."

"Not used to people," I shake my head. "Don't socialise much, right? Yeah, I'm the same. Except I can talk to people when I want too, I just don't choose to that often."

"Rowen shouldn't be far."

"What makes you think that?"

Surge frowns for a moment, adjusting the backpack on his back and using his fingers in the air, tracing some sort of pattern. "We've circled twice. She's not far at all."

I laugh a little, Surge's geek side a little more comforting than silent Surge. "Maybe you should pick the right door then."

"That's not possible."

"Why?"

Surge shrugs again. "I'm not a genius."

"Yeah, right," I turn around, moving downwards and listening to Surge's footsteps fall in time with mine. "You know, I think Rowen needs us badly. I've said it before, I get that, but something in her eyes before we lost Bridge. It just screamed innocence, like she wasn't used to be around people and then, she got stripped of us all in quick recession. Plus, she asked me if we were friends. Tell me that _doesn't_ seem like a lost child needing help?"

Surge doesn't reply, and really, I shouldn't be too surprised. Surge is Surge, after all.

In fact, come to think of Rowen, we've had okay luck. Nothing too damaging, really. I'm not hurt, not even injured, and apart from the constant sickness and nerves from all the cameras on me, we've fared well. But of course, thinking of all the people watching me back in Five just causes me to snake an arm around my sunken stomach, clutching desperately. Surge could tell, just like that, that I suffer from an eating disorder. Again, I shouldn't be surprised, but how many other people know?

After all this, everyone will.

"Try this door," Surge says evenly. "This one."

I salute him sarcastically, prying it open and slipping inside, him behind me. We've been lucky. _Really_ lucky. Almost _too_ good, really.

But how far can luck carry you, until something plans to screw it over?

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

"Caspian, slow down!" Andromeda cries from behind, but that doesn't stop my feet from running faster and faster, tears pricking at my eyes.

Soon enough, as expected, Andromeda catches up to me without touching. Of course. She is small, no doubt faster. She looks at me with half pity and half confusion, and it takes everything not to scream or cry or anything. She doesn't even understand. Why would she? Nobody understood me like Misty did, and now, no-one probably never would.

"Caspian, you have to stop running," Andromeda breathes, slightly out of breath from the long distance I made her chase me. "What's the matter with you?"

I stare at her, dumbfounded, trying to muster it all up. "I-I killed someone, Andromeda. I murdered someone."

She looks a little more confused, and the pity has definitely been replaced with annoyance, before sighing heavily.

"You just worked that out..." Andromeda looks down. "Caspian. This is the Hunger Games. You _did_ sign up for this, after all."

I want to tell her what I told Misty. That I knew this was going to happen. That, at some point, I was either going to die or I was going to have to kill someone, even both. I just wanted to see why everyone seemed to come out more damaged than before they went in. I wanted to watch reality crumble all around, understand it all, live it all. And of course, this is where Misty would understand, nod, but still berate me for being an idiot in the first place.

It stings against my heart at how much I actually miss her. I never liked her in that sense, oh no, but it was nice to have someone who was your complete opposite, and yet could read you like a book and tell you things about yourself you didn't even know.

It takes a while for me to even come up with a reply, the pair of us standing there, weapons in hand.

"I can't do this." I manage to squeak out, eventually.

And after a while, Andromeda looks up, and it's only then do I remember how young she actually is. "I admit, I never expected it to be like this."

"Like what?"

Andromeda laughs bitterly. "Chaotic. I knew I would have to murder, I was prepared to do what was necessary to win, but I never expected to actually regret running up those steps for the microphone."

"You regret it?"

"Every second so far," Andromeda sighs, deflated once more. "But there is no turning back. Win or lose, now."

I nod slowly, realising that Andromeda will never quite understand me like Misty did, but that's okay, because no-one could replace Misty anyway. She jerks her head into a direction, and pretty defeated, we head off. After about ten minutes, we sit down, having some food and waiting for something to come and get us, like before. Nothing does. And when everything feels like it's about to settle...

I hear the ripple of something flying through the air.

The aim is terrible, an arrow landing right above my head, pierced into the wall. Anger boils up in me as I see the familiar blur of bright hair emerge from the shadows, bow strapped with another arrow, looking just as beautiful and evil as ever. Andromeda did mention about her being a cockroach and appearing whenever easily.

"Don't move," Beauty sneers. "I might be terrible at aim, but I'm only off the mark a little bit. Aim for your body, I _might_ just get your head."

Andromeda practically growls underneath her breath. "I thought I made myself clear."

"Sorry, _sweetie_, I don't understand street urchins," Beauty mocks, wiggling the bow between us. "Now who first? Street urchin or the pathetic loser?"

I'm almost offended by my title. Since when did I become a loser?

But something we've always had over Beauty is the proper power of Careers. I swing my leg out, and surprise surprise, Beauty falls without noticing it. She falls, hard, and Andromeda is on her feet within seconds, running forward. Beauty stands in time, just ready to grab Andromeda and flip her over, slamming her against the ground with a sickening thud, using Andromeda's size against her. I slowly get up, raising my sword.

For Misty.

"Come get me, pretty boy." Beauty smiles sickly.

And behind her, I watch Andromeda rise, pulling a secretive knife from boot. Then, in slow motion, Beauty spins around as if almost expecting that to happen and fires her arrow, just as Andromeda launches her knife.

Both items battle through the air.

The only difference? Andromeda can aim, Beauty can't. Beauty's arrow completely misses Andromeda as she ducks to the side, pinging into the distance. Andromeda's knife, on the other hand, finds Beauty's temple without a second thought. She falls with a thud, a cannon happening straight after.

Andromeda looks at me, smiles softly and sighs. "And the wicked witch is _dead_."

* * *

**Rowen Knight.**

I crouch down in the darkness, pressing up against the wall, searching the area for anything, anyone, and contented, I sigh in relief. My hands instinctively wrap around my body, holding me, stopping me from shaking. I'm alone. Out there, somewhere, Modessa and Surge are looking for me, if neither of them were the two cannons that have already fired. Something in my gut tells me no, but anything is a possibility.

I need to find them soon.

No weapons. No food. No water.

I have _nothing_. I came in with nothing, and at this rate, I'll be leaving with nothing too.

I laugh bitterly, before breaking into a sob. I had a friend, Ty, then he was taken from me. A friend comma boyfriend, Bridge, and he was taken away from me. Surge and Modessa, split from them, saved by Bridge at the risk of being alone. Dying alone. Winning alone. It's almost too much.

I've lived my life learning to cope with lonliness. I've never had anyone, so why should I care so much about losing two people that I've only known for around a week? Truth is, no-one has ever taken the time to get to know me, the real me, the girl hidden behind the blind eye and marred skin, tormented and bullied for being different. They look, judge me by my appearance, and never understand the emotional pain they cause.

So, in a sense, I should be totally _cool_ with lonliness.

But they both made me feel safe. Protected. Wanted and needed. And within seconds, like some cruel joke, they were stripped away from me. It's almost as if the Gamemakers saw my reaping, thought it was amusing, and are literally taking advantage of it all, just for the entertainment value.

Lets torment the blind girl. Lets _leave_ her in the darkness, on her own, because she's grown up like that. Lets wait, watch her go insane, just to kill her quickly when she becomes boring.

Another bitter laugh bubbles, and before I know it, more tears and shaking. Violent shaking. I rock back and forth, holding on dearly to myself as if, if I don't, I'll slip away into nothingness. That cruel, mysterious black might just swallow me whole.

"Rowen..."

Fear shoots through me. My blood literally runs cold. My heart pounds just a bit slower, a bit harder.

"Rowen..."

I know that voice. I let out a shaky, choked cry, peering into the darkness that I believe the voice is coming from. With shaky legs, I stand up, bracing myself with the cemented wall. I hear the sound of a dragging footstep, followed by another, edging just a bit closer with evil intent. I find my breath going, and for a moment, I have to cough just to be able to swallow some air.

Then, bit by bit, the image becomes clearer.

I don't even try to muffle my scream of pure horror.

A body, covered in deep, jagged holes, tearing through flesh and veins. Knife wounds. A face, porcelain white except for the bright, painted red smile like an evil clown and dead, colourless eyes. A metal bracelet around their wrist, just like mine. He drags his feet just a bit closer, head lolled to the side, hanging limp, mouth closed behind the false blood smile.

The metal bracelet flashes a blue light, and then, that's when the voice happens.

"Why did you let me die, Rowen? I thought we were _friends_."

_Bridge_.

* * *

**Wild Horses by Natasha Bedingfield.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Ember Auger, District Twelve.**

**Beauty D'Avanzo, District One.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now the numbers have shrunk. You may vote for your own tribute.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**Ugh. Killing my babies!**

**The bracelet idea is done! Yes, this was always going to happen and that is what the bracelets were for. So guys, lets welcome back the dead, starting with Bridge's return ;) **

**Final 10... Eep. Who do you want in the final 5? :)**


	14. Thriller

_It's close to midnight,  
Something evil's lurkin' from the dark.  
Under moonlight,  
You see a sight that almost stops your heart,  
You try to scream.  
But terror takes the sound before you make it,  
You start to freeze,_  
_As terror looks you right between your eyes,  
You're paralyzed._

_Cause this is thriller,_  
_Thriller night,_  
_And no one's gonna save you,_  
_From the beast about to strike,_  
_You know it's killer,_  
_Thriller night._  
_You're fighting for your life,_  
_Inside a killer,_  
_Thriller tonight, yeah._

* * *

**Surge Dalton.**

The anthem fades, taking the girls from One and Twelve with them. Final ten has arrived, and I've made it this far. So has Modessa and Rowen, which I couldn't be more happier for.

"Surge, I hear something."

I spin around at the urgency in her voice. But it could be anything, since Modessa has a habit of either being worried about everything, due to being conscious, or suspicious, due to... Well, being in here. Her face looks considerably pale, even a little blue.

"What?"

"I don't know," Modessa admits. "I just... I feel like something is following us. Watching us, kinda thing. And I _swear_ I hear talking."

I open my mouth to remind her of the colours constantly watching us, but she cuts me off by raising her hand.

"No, I don't mean the colours. I mean something else. Something... Something worse. Seriously, Surge, I have such a bad feeling about this," Modessa slowly but surely pulls a knife from her uniform, and I can't help but frown, since I've never seen it before or even when she collected it. Again, she notices my face, and sighs. "I've had this since the beginning. I've never thought I needed it until now."

She turns to face a hallway, holding the knife with a jittery, shaking hand.

"I don't think we're near anyone," I say absently. "If anyone, it'll be Rowen."

"No," Modessa is quick to go against me. "It's something worse, I said. You need to listen to me more."

"I did listen. I'm simply saying I think you're wrong about it."

"Course you would," Modessa rolls her eyes. "Just... Be prepared."

I wait patiently, shifting the handles of my backpack, knowing I'm safe if I actually use it. Mind you, I haven't had the opportunity to actually start mixing and concocting the poisons to make them right. So in a sense, I fell safe, but it's much too false and right now, I'll have to rely on Modessa and her knife, which isn't great, since Modessa in a weird, confusing way basically said she wouldn't save me, right after I saved her.

"Surge!" Modessa shouts. "I see something!"

She stares hard down a certain hallway cloaked in blackness, and as I squint, I make out the faint shape of a blue, bleeping light that constantly flashes, accompanied by a growl. It takes a second for the small figure to appear, and with horror, I watch as Aimee slowly drags herself from the shadows, a deep, burning hole in her neck. Her obvious death.

Modessa lets out a strangled cry as Aimee draws closer, painted red smile on her face.

"Surge," her voice, sweet and sadistic speaks, yet without mouth movement. "Why didn't you ally with me? Why did you let me die? Why did you let an innocent, young girl, _die_?"

My body goes tense, but I quickly remind myself that she's dead and can't speak.

Then, my mind works wonders. Her voice is being manipulated into the bracelet, except, it's the chirp of a jabberjay, manipulating their voice. Maybe that's what the bracelets were for all along? Set an electrical shock to let you know your district partner was injured or dead, but really, it was so they could find you when the dead were unleashed. It was a quicker way to tracing and altering everyone's voice when they died.

"Why did you do it, Surge? I died because of you!"

Modessa slips her hand into mine tightly, knife still aimed at Aimee.

I remember the pictures at the beginning. Before the bloodbath. I thought they were to give you a hint about the arena as a whole. Instead, they were laughing at us, letting us know what was installed for the future that much more subtle. The clowns, dead and ripped open, were a hint to the dead tributes, painted with a red, chalky smile, wounds still visible, coming back for us.

"Surge..." Modessa whispers, and for a moment, I believe it could have been Aimee's voice.

"What?"

But as Modessa opens her mouth, I can hear the pounding footsteps coming towards us hard, and before I know it, something slams into our backs, causing us to sprawl to the floor at Aimee's feet. I hear a familiar cry, and as I turn on the floor, rushing to my feet and helping 'Dessa up, I see Rowen, panting with tears on her face.

She takes a moment to look at Aimee, horrified, before clinging herself to Modessa.

"B-B-Bridge..." she manages to choke.

I look at the direction she flew down, only to see Bridge, knife wounds open, dragging himself down the hall sluggishly.

"_Bastards_." Modessa says grimly.

But, without warning, Aimee and Bridge lung forward at us, moving faster than I thought. Bridge manages to tackle Rowen to the floor, still crying, as Aimee clings to my ankles. No-one touches Modessa, and honestly, I believe it's because the closest people to her are me, Rowen and her district partner, all still alive. Aimee growls, scratching her nails into my skin, drawing blood and causing me to hiss in pain. Rowen continues to scream, and quick thinking, Modessa goes and kicks Bridge in the stomach, knocking him off Rowen's shaking body.

But she's _too_ far gone. She freaks out, crying and scratching her face like something is on it, before running off as Bridge makes chase.

He was programmed to hunt her. Much like Aimee to me. Bravely, Modessa raises the knife and brings it down on Aimee's temple. I don't hear a sickening crunch or squeal. No blood is loss, no real damage, because the girl is already dead.

She slumps to the ground, though, and I smile grimly at Modessa.

"Thanks." I mumble.

Modessa shrugs and offers a small smile. "You saved _me_ once. I was returning the favor."

And, everything seems calm, but from the corner of my eye, I watch Aimee climb back up. The dead are immortal.

* * *

**Basil Larkspur.**

I can't stop the pounding in my heart, my blood turning to ice, fingers playing with my insides. I know they're chasing me. I can hear them calling, chanting, growling at me.

"You didn't help me, Basil!" Ravi's dead voice beckons at me from behind, joined by the boy from Nine's stomps.

I block it out as much as people can whilst running, still trying to get away from him. I didn't leave him behind. He wanted to get something for himself and I was against it. He didn't listen to me, he just ran off on his own accord and got killed. I don't even _know_ who killed him, but when he staggered out the darkness with his head caved in, I almost gagged. It was probably the boy from Two, since he was the only one capable of smashing a skull to pieces.

The girl from One could have done it, but her dainty little arrows wouldn't have done that much damaged.

Spinning around a corner, I look around for a split second, seeing Ravi's form still running as fast as dead legs could carry someone.

Each time he gets close, my wrist hurts, like the bracelet is burning against my skin. But why would he come after me? I never did anything to him. I never abandoned him. He abandoned me! He was the one to run and not think about just running. I did, and waited before returning to the Cornucopia.

As I duck behind a door, a part of me wishes that I either went with Ravi, which would have got me killed, or helped out the little boy from Five. His face hasn't been projected on the walls, and his cannon hasn't sounded, so he's still alive. The final ten.

I'm _so_ close to going home.

Back to Poppy, knowing I kept my promise to myself about killing someone. Anyone. I could do that, with only nine more to die.

But my mind reminds me that Maybelle is still alive. She's out there too, and for once, I know she's alone. Nine and Twelve were her allies. Nine died early on, and just last night, Twelve was shown to be dead alongside the girl from One.

Three more Careers. Seven more reaped, with two of those being little children and one me.

I'm officially the oldest left, and technically, that should give me an advantage.

Pain hits me behind the head as I fall to the floor. I hit it hard, and somehow, I feel like I might have broke my nose. It's stupid, but it's a possibility as I feel the sticky blood run from it freely. I turn around, dazed, in time to see the boy from One holding his staff, stained red. He's panting hard, and it's like he suddenly recognizes me as me.

"I-I-I'm sorry," he stutters. "I-I-"

He's cut off by a low growl, coming from someone's stomach rather than their throat. Standing at the only other door is the girl from One, dead eyes and red smile like Ravi was, except, a long square cut in her pale temple, like a knife wound. He spins, looking accusing, and something tells me he thought I was another zombie coming for him.

She charges forward, and with a battle cry, One swings his staff at her side so hard, she flies across the room like a marionette.

I stagger to my feet, feeling dizzy. My hand traces the back of my head, going through my curly hair now matted with blood as One attacks his zombified district partner once more. I stare, confused, watching the boy turn animal again like when he killed the boy from Two.

But every time he slows down, she just gets back up again, not fazed as One continues to cave in parts of her once beautiful body.

"Die!" One shouts. "D-D-Die! L-Leave me _alone_!"

Confliction arises in me.

I do want to go home. More than anything. I want to see Poppy again, to see my friends, my family, my girlfriend. I don't want to die here. But I also want to keep the promise to myself about taking a life, knowing Poppy is watching back in Eleven.

My hand grabs the knife I have on me. Slowly, holding my breath, I move over to One as he continues to beat the girl that was once alive into the ground, not moving. I raise, and with as much force, push the knife into the back of his neck.

He gasps, harsh and broken, blood gurgling in his throat as he falls to the floor.

I make a silent pray for him as his cannon sounds. The girl rises, evil in her dead eyes, but she walks away. I back up, sitting down and out of breath as the metal teeth scoop up One, no doubt preparing to send him down once he's been cleaned and ready.

I just hope he doesn't come after me.

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

"Here, have this," Caspian says numbly, passing me an apple from his backpack. "I think we need it, you know. There aren't many of us left. Nine now."

I nod, slowly chewing on the sweet juices. Caspian is right. Nine now, two of them are me and Caspian. Sooner or later, me and Caspian will have to part. I'm more than capable of looking after myself, I mean, I look after my siblings without a problem, myself should be easy... But I've learned to trust Caspian. He's warm, comforting, and definitely not a complete asshole like Hollis. They're like two sides of the same coin.

Both are volunteers, trained to kill.

Hollis doesn't care. He has no mercy.

Caspian cares. Caspian actually has a heart that beats blood, not ice.

"Andi..." Caspian mumbles around his own apple. "You know it's coming to that time, right?"

I know what he's on about. I knew it was coming. Yet, it really does suck. "Yeah."

Caspian laughs bitterly. "If Misty was here, I'd have to say the same thing to her right about now. The numbers are going down, and I don't know if I could kill you, Andromeda."

"Who says you'll get the chance?" I smirk.

"Me," Caspian smiles, but it's so sad, I'm practically watching the boy crumble in front of me. "I'm serious, though. It might sound cruel, but I don't want to watch you die or for _you_ to watch me die."

"I get it. I really do."

Caspian looks at something over my shoulder, possibly the colours. His eyebrows knit together, small wrinkles forming on his forehead. It's funny. All this time, and I've never really looked at Caspian properly. He's a good-looking, young teenager. Not big and bulky, but not slender. In between, and definitely, 100% more attractive than Hollis. His warm eyes and suddenly go cold and the colour literally drains from his face.

"What is it?" I ask, slightly concerned.

He mouths opens and closes, but he doesn't need to answer what his fear is.

"Andromeda? Why didn't you love me?"

The icy fingers wrap around my heart, as I struggle to turn around and look at the voice I know. It's Hollis. Distorted a little, but Hollis. It has his same cold edge, hardened from years of training and killing. When I do, my stomach twists into a tight knot. Hollis, half of his head missing, caved in, showing his white skull underneath. The red smile doesn't move, and instead, a light flashes on his wrist.

"Why was I never good enough for you? I only ever loved you. Why didn't you love me back?"

I claw at the floor desperately, wanting to put distance between me and Hollis' dead form. I scramble, fighting back the tears, until I feel Caspian quickly grab me and pull me up. Before, I would have hated to be touched. I never let Hollis or anyone really touch me. Now, Caspian has a tight grasp on my wrist, and my emotions are too confused to even register the awful memories of being touched.

"I died for you, Caspian."

The grip becomes tighter, more needy. It's almost like Caspian is trying to snap my wrist. Another blue light and shadowy form moves alongside Hollis, and when it becomes clear it's Misty, Caspian fights back a choked sob. My heart goes out to him, because deep down, I know this is probably the worst thing the Gamemakers could have ever done to him.

"I let myself die so you could live. You was never going to do the same."

"I-I-I would ha-" Caspian argues pathetically, voice wavering.

"You just _let_ me die because you're _selfish_." Misty's voice is cold, not soft with that sarcastic edge like it normally has.

Hollis turns towards me more. "You left me and I got killed. Does that make you feel _better_, Andromeda? You never wanted me and now I'm _dead_!"

That's like a stab to my chest. It hurts because deep down, I know it's the truth. I never cared for Hollis, yet he followed me like a lost puppy. His death never meant anything to me because he never meant anything to met. Yet, here he his, and I want nothing more than to apologise for doing what I did, when he was never horrible to me.

Maybe I deserve this.

Caspian slowly tugs me towards a hallway as Hollis and Misty edge closer. Our backpacks are on the floor, but I have knives and Caspian still has one of this swords. Then, quickly, Caspian snaps me and drags me down the hallway, running from the bodies of our district partners as they still call after us. Soon enough, they begin running after us, their footsteps echoing against the ground.

The tears run freely as I hear Hollis one more time before I block everything out.

"You're the reason I died!"

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

"No!" I scream, pushing up against the door as Tanna continues to ram her body into it, trying to break the door down.

The spike of guilt hits me as Tanna continues to bang, bang, bang. I took her life. She was only twelve. She killed Rudy, and then wanted to kill me, but I actually ripped her of her life. If I didn't, Tanna might have gone farther in the competition. I don't let the tears spill, but I'm on the edge of breaking down. Bit by bit, the Gamemakers are making me crumble. They're doing everything they can to destroy the little boy from Five.

"You killed me! Face me!"

I bite down on my tongue, hoping that stops the tears.

I taste the tang of blood, but that doesn't help as tears silently trail down my face.

"Kill me _again_, Bena! You know you want too!"

I never wanted to kill you in the first place, Tanna. I never trusted you, but that never meant I wanted to be the reason why you could never go home to your family. Then, like she could read my thoughts, the banging stops. I stand up, hands running along the cool metal as I face it, wondering why she stopped. My heart freezes when the door opposite me, the door I never bothered to think about, begins to creak open.

"She killed me, Bena. Why did you let her kill me?"

Rudy.

My legs begin to knock together, emotions becoming too much. Tanna was one thing, but not Rudy. Innocent, childish Rudy who smiled and laughed and giggled and looked so happy nearly all the time. Who made excuses for Tanna's dark attitude. Who didn't deserve to be here, much like Aimee.

"She hurt me. She killed me. Why didn't you help me?"

"I wasn't looking." I mumble to myself, still facing the door, hoping that it would help me feel less guilty.

"Say it!" Rudy screams.

"I would have if I knew!" I shout back, voice breaking. "I-I killed her b-because _she_ killed _you_!"

Then, without warning, the door in front of me crashes into my head, Tanna having broke through. I fall to the floor, blood dripping down my head, as Tanna clambers over the damage. The Gamemakers must have eased the door for her to knock down.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry..." I croak out.

I knew they always wanted me dead.

* * *

**Maybelle Kailan.**

It takes a while for me to pull myself together, just like Ember would have wanted. It's hard to do things by yourself when there was always someone with you to help out. Ember was like a comfort blanket they stole from me.

I have no weapons. No backpacks. No food or water or even safety.

I roam the hallways, using the back door like Ember suggested before she died. The beast was quick to properly leave and never bother me. Maybe it never wanted me in the first place? Maybe it's main intention was to always kill Ember. Why kill the little girl, and make it all easier, when we could torture her and rip the last thing she has?

Everything suddenly seems much darker and ominous. The colours are slowly fading from the walls, still vibrant in their tone, but the amount of stripes and lines are receding. We're down to nine after hearing that other cannon.

I _could_ make it home.

I _still_ have a fighting chance, at the very least.

Turning the corner, I let out a heavy sigh. No other tributes around. I haven't bumped into anyone and that couldn't be more great. The last thing I need is to bump into someone wielding a knife, and me, defenseless. Right now, if I keep walking around and watching everything, I'll be able to avoid traps and I might not run in-

My thoughts are snapped off by a low, disgruntled growl.

For some reason, I don't feel as if anything can scare me that much anymore, and bravely, I turn around to face Komara, almost touching me, because that's how close she is to me. It catches my heart, and I muffle a shriek of pure terror. I try to back away, but Komara's dead form thrusts me forward. With a cry, I fall to the floor, and try so desperately to scramble away, digging my nails into the cement flooring. I don't want to die. Please don't let me die.

"You let me die," Komara hisses, but her mouth doesn't move. From the corner of my wet eye, I see the little blue flash. "I was nothing but nice to you, and you watched me almost get killed, before I was actually killed."

"N-No."

Another growl, but from behind me. "I _died_ for her."

My blood runs cold, because no, no, they can't do this to me. I only just lost her. She only just died. But as I crane my head around to have a look, I see Ember, but not her. Her skin is ripped to shreds, barely any white skin still clinging to her, bones and dried arteries on show. Only one eye is visible, the other an empty, blackened socket and her face is mutilated. I openly scream at that, because she endured all of that pain to let me live. I didn't dare go into the hallway.

"I risked my life so she could live, and I never even got a thank you. She just let me do it. _I_ was a kid too!"

I stagger to my feet, patting my clothing for the imaginary knife I so wished I had. Trapped between the two. A devil one side, an angel the over. I tried to back away, hopeful, and surprisingly, a door appears as Ember and Komara begin to close in on me. I swing it open, tears streaming down my face and I try so hard, so very hard, not to cry so openly. They've had so many of my tears, they can't have no more.

I don't even see that it's a trap.

The arrow pings from the wall, coming straight for me. I don't have time to move as the metal arrowhead stabs me in the chest with a sickening twist.

I let out a cry of pain, but it's broken. I'm broken. My hands quiver to touch it, but slowly, I realise my body is going numb. Blood drips from my body, against the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. I watch it, amazed, until I fall to my knees hard. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Nothing hurts anymore. With a struggle, as I fall on my back, I look to my chest and the arrow sticking out of it. Warm, ruby blood sticks to my black top, clinging to me like a second skin. I touch it with shaky hands, and it's warm._ So very warm_.

Their faces appear in my darkened line of view.

"I was a kid too, Maybelle, and I died. Now it's your time." Ember growls angrily, before my heavy head becomes so light, it's like I'm floating on clouds.

I see Eleven and the orchards, swaying trees against the azure sky. It's warm, so very warm like my body, I can practically feel the sunlight burning on my face. I'm not here, not in this demented house, but my house back in Eleven with my family. I'm home. I never left to go and die. And with tear soaked cheeks, my puffy eyes close, the numbness washing over me fully.

Somewhere, I hear my cannon sound.

But it's all over. I'm _free_ at last. They won. They killed their underdog.

* * *

**Thriller by Michael Jackson.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Logan Voss, District One.**

**Maybelle Kailan, District Eleven.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now the numbers have shrunk. You may vote for your own tribute.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**CRIED. SO. MUCH.**

**Logan and Maybelle, you two were part of my all time favourite tributes I've ever had! Olive, thank you for creating a character as amazing as Maybelle, I'm so very sorry she died!**


	15. Pyromania

_I must confess,  
A thousand degrees,  
Bring out the beast inside of me.  
Don't be afraid,  
Go into the place,  
It's gonna melt your fears away._

_I'm gonna get this fire started,  
Impossible for you to breath,  
The temperatures rising up (up, so hot)  
And I'm burning up._

* * *

**Rowen Knight.**

"Leave me alone!" I scream. My throat hurts. My eyes are no doubt dry from all the tears I could ever have cried in a lifetime.

Yet, as I slam myself against the door in the hopes of Bridge actually leaving me alone, my hopes feel more than crushed. His feet, so slow, stop just outside the door, and underneath, I can see the crack of his shadow cutting through coloured light.

"I'm not finished with you yet!" Bridge screams in his dead voice.

My eyes wrap around my body tightly, and bit by bit, I lower myself to the floor, trying so desperately hard to drown out his voice, his words, his hurtful, cutting words. His fists bang against the door in rhythm with his words, but I'm learning not to listen. Whatever he's saying is all the Gamemakers' cheap tricks. He would never say those things. The Bridge I knew for such a short time wouldn't be this hurtful. He _might_ have been cold and hardened, a life of pain to protect someone he loved, and he was never friendly come to think of it, but he was never as cold as ice.

That's the only comfort I have. That these aren't his words but someone else's.

I hear a shuffle outside, before he apparently leaves. I sit in the silence, wondering how much more I can possibly handle. A whole life of pain and torture and being nothing but the bottom of the heap, and now, I'm still there. Only this time, it's gone from schoolkids and children in my district to Gamemakers trying so hard to break me into pieces.

Is it so wrong to ask to be left alone? I never asked for this. I was different, and like vultures, they preyed on me.

The door thuds and I hide a muffled scream.

"Rowen! It's us, it's us I promise you!"

Modessa's voice is like a bright light in the shadows. I clamber to my feet, moving away from the door as Surge and Modessa force themselves in harshly. I stagger back, but as I see Surge's district partner launch her body at the door like a puppet whose strings have just been cut, I understand. Surge pants hard, hissing through his teeth as he slams the door shut on her once pretty face and chubby cheeks.

"Did she get you?" I ask numbly, wiping my hand across a tear-stained cheek.

Surge nods slowly, lifting up his pants to see a green, weltering bruise on his ankle. "She clawed me."

"Do you think she could be affected with anything?" Modessa cuts in slightly worried.

"No," Surge replies in his usual manner. "They can't manipulate her bodily functions that much to add poison or chemicals into her system in the hopes that she can pass it on."

I watch Modessa rolls her eyes, and it takes everything not to wrap them both in a hug. I've missed them. I _need_ them.

"So what do we d-"

Modessa's words are cut off by a door opening on the other side. I hold my breath, knowing that it easily can be Bridge ready to attack. But it opens so quietly and shyly, it can't be the same animal that tried to sink teeth and claws into me not a few minutes ago. Instead, as I turn around shakily, I see Ty, his red mop sinking down over his face and a hole in his chest, just over his heart. I instantly know the Two girl killed him, since no-one has that perfect aim.

"No!" Modessa screams suddenly. "This isn't fair! You can't just bring one after the other after the other. We're people, not toys!"

Ty tilts his head, letting the red smile fall to the side a little.

"I'm your friend, Roe. I died. Why wasn't you there?"

"No," Modessa cuts in again, as if he's speaking to her, not me. "Don't go and play those tricks."

Her knife comes forward from behind her back, standing proud if it wasn't for Modessa's violently shaking hand. Surge clamps his over it, and the pair manage to make it look a lot more threatening then a small, blonde girl holding it.

Ty must catch in, for a second goes by before he's suddenly as fast as a dead person can run. The one thing I'm grateful for is the fact it was easy to run from Bridge because they don't run fast. They're meant for fear, not for actual fighting. Sickness rises at the thought of putting more harm to Ty's body before he goes home to his mom. Surge quickly pushes us apart, but as me and Modessa go one way and Surge goes the other, it's obvious who he wants.

Me.

I feel his body slam into mine and then mine into the wall, head whiplashing against the cement and making me see stars.

Modessa is quick to stab Ty through the back with the knife, but he only slumps forward and falls to his knees, before regaining his composure. Surge runs in and surprisingly delivers a strong kick to his stomach to throw him away from us. He turns and looks at his backpack, and Modessa nods.

"We can handle it." she states clearly.

He nods, going back to his backpack that he's been so attached too and begins pulling out vials and a pack of blowdarts.

I look to Ty as he gets back up, but Modessa kicks him nastily, growling through her teeth. It's so unlike her. She was never strong or a fighter. The Games have changed everyone.

"Stay down, you little piece of crap."

My eyes become glued to the bright red mop that I've come to know so well. Bridge is gone now, for good, and now Ty will too. I never got to say goodbye to either of them. To say thank you for befriending a girl everyone else avoided. So, I whisper a silent thank you to Ty's sprawled form as Surge returns, a blowdart in his hand.

"You have a gun and you want to stab him?"

He shrugs. "I need to get the vein for my theory to work."

"Not like it can go in his bloodstream, Surge," Modessa exclaims. "He doesn't have any blood!"

"It'll work, trust me."

Surge moves forward, and as Modessa kicks him down like a wounded puppy once more, Surge quickly thrusts a blowdart into his neck. Surprisingly, his body doesn't move again. Surge's smile is clear as he stands up just as 'Dessa lets out a heavy sigh.

"We found the cure to kill zombies. Awesome."

But as I look at Surge and Modessa, I begin to lose focus on Ty's twice dead form on the cement floor. He could have died alone. Bridge didn't, but he died so quick, he couldn't have been prepared. I could still die alone or win alone. It's only then do I see his bracelet still flash. My eyebrows knit together as I close in on him, letting Modessa and Surge talk about their victory over the undead and their plans to take out Aimee when she arrives for them. Since when did they get so _brave_?

I hear a crackle, though, and my eyes shoot up to the ceiling that seems a lot further away then bef-

"Run!" I scream at the top of my lungs, just as the first tendril of amber fire slips out from the hatch.

But more follow. Modessa moves to the door, Surge grabs his backpack as quick as he can and both make their way to the door that Aimee lurks behind. The minute it swings open, Aimee launches forward at Surge, knocking him to the floor as her nails begin to try and dig his eyes out, small body pressed on top of his larger one. I watch another tendril climb forward, sliding like a cobra against the floor, and I'm transfixed as Modessa runs to haul Aimee off of Surge frantically.

I've always loved fire. It's peaceful and dangerous. Bright crackles of yellow mixing with orange, dancing on the breeze and burning the logs to nothing but smoldering ash. That was home, my life, and as much as it sucked, I would do anything to have it back.

A hand clamps around my ankle causing my eyes to snap at Ty's body, iron grip wrapped around my flesh. _Not_ dead.

I tug away desperately, but his other hand grabs my other ankle, bringing me down to the floor. His head tilts up slightly, dead eyes looking at me.

"I died on my own. I won't die on my own again."

Aimee's body comes down hard next to me, brown hair just inches from my face as wet tears stream my cheeks. I wiggle, try so desperately to escape Ty's grip. But I'm not trying hard enough because I don't want this anymore. I'm a girl, bullied and beaten her whole life. What do I have to live for? I have nothing left anymore. Nothing to go back too. They successfully cracked me. I got a friend and he was taken from me. A boyfriend and he was taken from me. Every time I feel safe, they are determined to knock me down more. They've never once left me alone. Why am I so special?

So as Modessa and Surge stand there, backpack in hands and watching Aimee's form begin to climb towards them, flame tendrils slivering down the walls, I make a conscious decision.

"Run!" I scream once more.

Fire touches the floor.

"I-I don't want to leave you!" Modessa beckons back.

"Run!" I reply with as much strength as I can, just as my hand vices around Aimee's ankle to stop her moving. To getting my friends. To taking them away from me, too. They notice, and as I watch Modessa cry, Surge pushes her through the open door, just as the blaze engulfs it hungrily. I weep, the smoke beginning to fill the air, making it thick, the fire crawling along the floor towards me. Ty's greedy laugh breaks through the emotions as his dead fingers bruise my ankles.

Proudness takes over. Through this experience, I made _friends_. I finally had _friends_. Rowen Knight wasn't alone anymore.

And she wasn't going to die alone, either.

* * *

**Elle Cludiant.**

A cannon bounds through the arena, but I know it's a death from the fire. I run, swinging my legs and arms as hard as they can carry me, trying to outrun the flames that chase me. Like rats, we're being smoked out, minus the smoke. More like being burned out from our holes of protection.

I was happy where I was. Wrapped up in a blanket I collected from the Cornucopia, resting in a small, closet like room where nothing could kill me.

I cried so hard for Corvus' death. But I had to get over it, naturally. He was strong, determined, and he wouldn't want me crying over him for nothing. I let his death take a place in my heart that soon got covered by fire. A fire that wants to win, kill, destroy everything else until I'm a lone survivor.

Another crackle. I just manage to duck, much like the spears on the first proper day, as a piece of burning metal swings through the hallway, quivering as it pierces through concrete.

I'm quick to my feet, still running for my life.

_Always_ running from something.

But as I run, I see the flash of red hair that looks so familiar. I pull my spear up, and as I get closer, with surprised eyes, I bury it into Cypress' forehead. She falls, but I don't have time to pick up my spear. I have a knife if needed, but right know, running from the fire is important. Besides. I never really liked her that much and definitely didn't trust her as far as I could throw her.

I look over my shoulder for a split second, letting the dread sink in as I see the fire wrap and cover every surface, continuing to chase me like an animal wanting food.

Come to think of it, it reminds me of the colours on the walls.

When I look to the walls for a reminder, I'm proved right. The colours chase after me still, much like the fire now, neon claws just within reach of my body.

Another corner, another duck as another piece of hot metal battles through the air.

Suddenly, I begin to pick up pace, moving just a bit faster. My eyes close for a second, and a flashback begins of the day Cy died. A week into the Games and everything was going fine for him. Not a single bit of harm on his body, no encounters and no alliances. Everything was dandy. Then, ten tributes left, they unleashed the Mutts and let them destroy and eat everything they came across. Five tributes died from that alone. Cy wasn't one.

I was so little, it's hard to remember it all. But they were golden with scales, long claws and spitting, blue forked tongues.

They ate away at him, chasing him down, spitting their tongue at his legs to trip him up and then sinking a claw through his skin. It was torturous. But he escaped, ran... Straight into the boy Career from Two. He was so weak and tired from the Mutts, he didn't even see Two launch a spear directly at his chest. It caught, Cy dead within seconds.

Again, I was so little, that's all I remember. But it burned a hatred inside me that grew year after year. Careers. I've always hated them because they were killers, hunters, no more different then the Mutts. Some kids were ripped away from families, much like Cy, none able to stab with a knife, let alone kill something. Then Careers with their training and honor to upheld... It was sickening. Seeing that District Two girl, Andromeda, I couldn't help but let the fire take over and swing for her.

My price being Corvus' death.

They snap back open again, just in time to see the fire catching up quickly. Taking a deep, ragged breath, I begin running again for my life.

_Always_ running, much like Cy.

But as I turn another corner, I see that same chunk of dark locks that looked down at me right at the very beginning when I fell through the floor. He stands there, only meters away, not saying or moving or anything. I don't have time to catch my breath, though, because I'm too stunned. He's drenched, damp from the blood, locks smudged against his face. It makes me want to be sick that I caused his death. He came out fighting for me, just because I got reckless and allowed anger to absorb me.

The fire is still coming, though, so I pull out the knife and quickly stab his hollow chest before running again, weaponless.

_Always_ running.

Another corner comes and goes, the fire never giving up. It's relentless, like the tributes. The Games are nothing but murder and pain, suffering from kids. Is that fun to watch, a child being burned inch by inch?

Something spits out. This time I don't get the time to duck. A red hot piece of metal flies over head, scratching across my cheek. I scream, instantly feeling like my skin is melting off. I continue to run, using a shaky hand to touch the now welting scar. Tears prick at my eyes and begin to fall, each coupled with a whimper of pain as the cold and salt of the tears run over my new found burn.

Is this really _that_ fun to watch fire be spat at me, making me cry and ruining my face?

* * *

**Basil Larkspur.**

I stagger back, falling to the floor as the fire rips through the door, sending it to nothing but splinters. The fire crawls through, looking menacing, looking evil with its amber claws. I claw the ground desperately to get away, watching the fire creep in. I manage to get onto my feet, spinning around to run. But after a few steps towards the door, I feel weightless, knowing the floor has gone. I hit the next floor down hard, smacking my knees against the concrete and sending wave after wave through my body.

I cry out in pain, but quickly stuff a hand over my mouth to hide the sound.

My knees go slightly numb, but I force myself onto my feet, running away from my possible death. It continues to come after me, curling around the hatch and making the chase. They want to flush out their victims. The ones that the Capitol say aren't perfect. Anything but Careers, basically, and as the anthem blares over the roars of the fire and thumbs the picture of the girl from Eight onto the cement walls and ceiling, I know I'm right.

All the lower districts are falling.

The higher ones are _still_ alive.

They want their _perfect_ Victor and someone from a poor district isn't the one.

After me will be Elle and the pair from Five, then the boy from Three, leaving their perfect Careers to fight for their perfect audience.

I don't even notice that the fire isn't following anymore, and as I slow down and heave as heavy as possible, ignoring the pain in my knees, I see a flash of something in front of me. It's shiny and silver. Before I can react, it's too close, sinking into my shoulder blade. I cry out again, finding the knife perfectly positioned under the bone, taking away all feeling from my right arm. It's numb, hanging limp.

The knife soon falls out with a pop, clattering to the floor as blood begins to leak.

I don't even know where it came from, but I recognise the deadly accuracy. She never missed in training, so why miss now? She comes running out, looking flustered with wet eyes and rosy pink cheeks illuminated by the neon flares.

She staggers to a halt when she sees me, the hole and then her knife on the floor. Another shadow comes running out, the boy from Four.

Our eyes stare each other down, but I don't see the anger in her normal. But her fingers twitch as she pulls out another knife.

Four sighs heavily, goes to open his mouth just as Two swings it back. I try to make a run. Yet, I'm stuck. Frozen into place by fear. My eyes flash before my eyes. The thought of Poppy or Amber seeing my body makes me feel sick. The thought of them watching me die, die without trying, making my kill and taking out the boy from One... It's all too much to handle. Maybe I would be better off not going on, knowing my promise was all but broken. I took the life of someone who had a family, a life, a heart.

I gave my heart up to bury the blade into his neck.

The knife connects into the bottom of my throat. I feel the liquid fill me up. I wonder if this is what it's like to actually drown.

I fall to the ground, weakened, hearing the fire coming from some direction. I don't know which one, though, since everything goes black and my ears... My ears are making everything quiet, muted.

The figures come closer, nothing but blurs and shapes.

"H-He didn't do anything wrong..."

There's a pause, before the smaller one replies. "I-I-I didn't know what to do... I-I'm sorry. I-I just want to go home, Caspian. Others have to die. I-I-I _don't_ k-know..."

I don't know whether the smaller one is addressing me or her friend, but the taller one runs away, stepping over my body, whilst the smaller one stays and waits. I feel her getting closer and closer, but never touching me. Not even close.

"I am _really_ sorry..." the voice is more soft, blurred and quiet.

I feel the burning pierce as the dagger gets ripped from my throat, and now the darkness washes over. The crackle of the fire creeps closer.

My cannon sounds, just as the fire reaches my foot.

* * *

**Pyromania by Cascada.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Rowen Knight, District Eight.**

**Basil Larkspur, District Eleven.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**20 Points -**

**20 Points -**

**Voting has changed now the numbers have shrunk. You may vote for your own tribute.**

**However, I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them. ****If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine. Just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early, then whine.**

* * *

**FINAL SIX.**

**Rowen and Basil, babies, you two were again in my top favourites! Big question is; who do you not want to make to the final five? Smaller chapters expected. We're so close!**


	16. Heavy In Your Arms

_I'm so heavy, heavy,_  
_Heavy in your arms._  
_I'm so heavy, heavy,_  
_Heavy in your arms._

_And is it worth the wait, _  
_All this killing time?_  
_Are you strong enough to stand,_  
_Protecting both your heart and mine?_

_Who is the betrayer?_  
_Who's the killer in the crowd?_  
_The one who creeps in corridors,_  
_And doesn't make a sound._

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

I stop, scanning the room I've taken cover in. Caspian is gone. Long gone, in fact. It was clear we weren't going to stay together forever, obviously, and if we were both planning to go home, then that meant making the final fight. We couldn't do that together, as much as I think I wanted too. That boy from Eleven took seventh place. Not that many people left all. Me and Caspian make two of the six. Besides us is that slightly deranged girl from Six, the boy from Three and then the pair from Five.

Something catches my eye, but I choose to ignore.

_Surely_ there can't be no more surprises.

My knees knock together, feeling weak. I wipe harshly at the tears that have stained my cheek, knowing that crying is an option in here. Not for a Career, anyway, even though I'm technically not. I was never _formally_ trained like the others.

Logan and Beauty attended an academy each, though I have no idea if they went to the same one. Caspian mentioned training with his friends, and Misty mentioned her father training her and her sister as hard as possible.

Hollis was at the usual Training Centre, the one and only in Two where every bloodthirsty, psychopathic potential tribute goes. What surprises me is how many trainees go, and how little actually get the chance to volunteer. Some girl, some poor, twitchy girl waiting to dig her claws into someone's skull got beat. I volunteered before she got a chance, and now, she's _lost_ her chance or she'll have to wait another year.

I should have just let her volunteer.

I _shouldn't_ have bothered.

All this time I've spent running around, regretting each kill I've made, watching Hollis return from the dead and remembering all too well about how I threw my knives at anyone who crossed our paths, when I could have been at home protecting Sterling and Demetria.

Right now, they're probably crying, scared, listening to our uncle shout drunkely at the walls, throwing the glass and watching them smash.

Sterling probably has bruises on his cheek right at this moment protecting Demi.

He shouldn't be bruised. It should have been _me_. I should be taking the abuse so that neither of them have too. Yet, I got stupid, idealistic, pretending that I could come in here, be strong enough to kill and win, and then whisk them away from drunken, abusive nights with our uncle whose determined to remind us that we're nothing more than "her kids".

I hear a noise, quickly standing up and drawing a knife.

The door creaks open, but nothing is out there. Fear grips my heart as I move closer and closer. The Games have changed everyone. I was never that afraid right at the start, and now, it's like every corner holds something else that could kill me, scare me, rip the tears from my eyes if needed.

I just want to win to save _them_.

I'm not asking for a _lot_.

I pull the door back, still with my knife in hand. One throw and I could kill anything... As long as it's alive and something real. I can't kill thin air and I most definitely can't kill something that has died and reborn.

Yet, I'm faced with the little boy from Five.

His wide eyes snap to me. He lets out a shaky breath, those wide, doe-like eyes trained on my knife.

"Go," I state clearly, knowing I'll regret it. "I'm serious. Just go away, kid. R-Right now, I'm not stable enough to kill."

He looks confused, but then again, where has he been? Since the plates, I haven't heard a peep from him, let alone a sighting.

"Now."

His little legs can't carry him quick enough.

Funny thing is, I'm pretty sure he's not even that much younger than me. Maybe a year or two. Yet, he disappears into the darkness, and once again, I notice something that catches my eye. My eyebrows knit together as the little light, or whatever is, comes a bit closer.

I'm almost gladly surprised when I find out that it's a parachute from a sponsor.

The canister plops at my feet. I curl my fingers around the lid and open it, only to find that it's empty.

_Check the other parachute, stupid -M_

Marcia sent this? I place it down, going back into the room and yes, it was a parachute, I just chose to ignore it. I quickly pick it up, not even bothering to look at the note yet as I pull forth a wicked looking pouch. I unravel it, letting the small, golden-handled daggers fall onto the floor with a clang. They look like most knives, but as I kick one over, I see the blade is more curved and a lot bigger.

"What..." I mumble, looking at the note.

_Four needs to die sooner or later. Try these, you might actually be able to kill someone worthy rather than little children -M_

She wants me to kill Caspian. She's not even my mentor, yet I'm expected to follow her orders.

Kill Caspian.

My mind blurs and fogs, swirling and making me feel dizzy. I always knew it would have to happen. Back before, when the Careers were together, I never cared for any of them. Hollis and Beauty were awful people, I respected Caspian and Misty, whilst Logan just didn't entertain me in any sense. Then, as we fell one by one, I was pushed towards Caspian and he comforted me. He touched me, and I've never let someone do that besides Sterling or Demi.

Now, I'll have to _kill him_.

But, I need too. I really don't want too, but I have too. I didn't want to kill any of them. Not the boy from Eight with his bright red hair. I did that so he wouldn't face the pain and torture from someone like Hollis. I let his district partner go because I couldn't face the idea of what pain Beauty could have brought to her.

I'm not made for any of this.

Yet, I curl my fingers around the set of four knives and load them into my boots.

I'm doing all of this for Sterling and Demi. To save them and give them a good childhood. I have to be selfish to do a selfless act.

And I keep reminding myself that as I walk out and begin to hunt Caspian down.

* * *

**Modessa Lilian.**

"She's dead..." I whisper to no-one, looking down at the ground.

Surge looks up for a second, giving a little nod and then returning to his backpack to create more and more poisons. He managed to create one, a dull pink, that sedated the zombies for a while. Though, it's almost ironic that just as he manages to create it, a fire comes along and pretty much burns everything in sight. Rowen was one of them, taking Aimee and her district partner with her. No doubt, the fire got to everything else, too.

"What are you making?" I ask.

Surge shrugs, pouring something blue into something violet. "Something I can dip the darts into and then shoot at the other tributes. It's nothing complicated, just common science."

"Common to you is complicated to us," I manage to snipe, yet I don't know how. "Sorry."

"Don't be."

"No, I am sorry, I'm _always_ sorry," I sigh. "I feel like I always act like a bitch to you."

I see the small crack of a smile on his face, and that warms my heart a little. "The way you act is just your defensive mechanism. Everyone has one and yours just so happens to be name calling and little jabs at the way I am."

We sit in silence for a moment, my eyes fixed as he pours the liquid together. I watch in amazement as the blue and violet liquids combine, turning a navy colour.

"Why are you like this?" I ask again, knowing I'm pushing the limit.

He stops, giving another little smile as he puts the items down.

"I've always been like this. No traumatic incident or action has lead me to be the way I am now. I've just always been different."

I smile. "And there's no-one like you at all?"

"Nobody is the same," Surge points out. "Everyone is different in the slightest bit. Everyone is unique."

Again, the silence falls. Surge looks for any excuse to not make eye contact with me, but that's just him. He doesn't do social skills at all. He's the most awkward, bright, strange kid I've ever met. And Five does have some weirdos as well. Yet, I'm glad we became allies. I wouldn't have chosen anyone else. Him, Rowen and Bridge, we made the most perfect little bunch of outcasts and rejects.

"What are you thinking?"

I snap out my thoughts, looking at Surge, just as my stomach growls. "Just us and how far we've come."

His eyes, however, go to my stomach once again. I feel that tension. That horrible tension that rises every time someone actually looks at my stomach. It's like they can see my weight, my pounds building up on my stomach and making it stick out by a mile.

"Why do you have an eating disorder, Modessa?"

I should be shocked by Surge's bluntness. Yet, no social skills, as I said. "I-I-I-"

"You can tell me. I won't judge you." Surge offers the most comforting smile I've ever seen. And somehow, that encourages me.

"I've always been ignored. Nobody in my family actually cared that much about me, too busy and wrapped up in themselves. I felt _worthless_, you know? Lower than low. Then, I guess, this was my coping mechanism. My cry for attention. The attention I never got."

I don't even feel the tears slide down my cheeks. It's only when I see one hit the floor that I know I'm crying. And it hurts. It hurts so much because I've never told anyone. I've never admitted it, about my problem, about my history. It's been wrapped up, protected, and now it's been unleashed.

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

He pauses for a moment, before gulping. "Because I care. And I don't want you to feel like that, Modessa."

"Little bit late for that," I laugh bitterly. "Crap. I'm sorry. And thank you, Surge, I appreciate it."

I watch as Surge stores the poisons in their small little vials back into the backpack, standing up.

"We should move some more. We could be found out."

I stand up, taking Surge's hand for help. He smiles as we begin to walk away, shoulder to shoulder, a new side of Surge now unlocked. A side to him that actually knows what to do and say. But soon enough, as we turn a corner, a horrible grinding sound ringing out.

Surge grips onto my shoulder, holding me still.

But I already knew to stop. Much like finding Aimee, I knew before he did.

We spin around, just in time to see a wall slide down from the ceiling, a dozen metal spikes sprouting from the cement soil. Urgency taps into my brain, and as I yank Surge with the straps on his backpack, we start running. A deafening spitting noise happens, a metal spike whizzing past my shoulder, barely missing me. I try to ignore the cramps in my stomach, the blur behind my eyes and the fact that my head is swimming.

I haven't eaten for ages. I nibble a little piece of jerky that we had, but that was it, and that itself was almost four days ago, back when the girl from Four and the guy from Seven appeared on the walls.

Luckily, Surge thrusts me into a small cupboard room, and we watch with ragged breaths as the wall passes us without looking back.

We lower down, mainly because I can't even move anymore.

"Stomach cramps?" Surge says neatly.

"Yeah," I nod. "I don't eat, remember?"

He places the backpack on the floor, standing back up. "You get yourself something to eat whilst I have a little look outside, see if that wall went back up or connected itself against something."

"Go _enjoy_ your geekiness." I smile.

Surge disappears from the door, just as my eyes slip shut. I mindlessly zip open the backpack, dipping my hand in and bringing forth an apple. It's slightly moist, but I still pull it out and take a little nip, tasting the tangy juices across my tongue. I swallow it down, taking another little bite, forcing myself to forget about the possible pounds and prying eyes. I need energy, strength, but the apple tastes weird.

Maybe it's because I haven't eaten for so long.

But then, after another little bite, my tongue seems large and fuzzy, like it's made of fur.

I drop the apple in panic, feeling something seizing my throat, tightening it harshly. I gasp, begging for air, clawing the ground. Blackness begins to collect behind my eyes, making everything that much harder to see. I manage to choke out one word, and he comes running.

Surge's eyes are swimming with confusion. He's quick to sit me up, but everything is becoming that much harder... _I just can't breathe_...

He shuffles in the backpack, tipping it upside down frantically. I hear the clatter of the vials hitting the floor, then Surge cursing under his breath. I manage to strain my eyes to have a look, noticing every vial with their lid shut tightly... Except one. That navy liquid is empty, contents gone.

It doesn't take long to put the pieces together, even in my state.

"I-I do-o-"

My eyes slip close, but I manage to feel Surge shaking me frantically, before I feel his arms wrap around me, holding me in his arms as he continues to shake me. It doesn't matter, because everything begins to go so numb. Then, a blinding white light with two shadowy figures. It takes a moment to see who they are, but I squint enough to see the girl and guy walk out. Rowen and Bridge, hand in hand, smiles on their faces... And Rowen with two beautiful, _striking_ grey eyes.

"Come with us, 'Dessa," Rowen smiles. "It's better here."

I stutter and trip over words, but Rowen's stretched out hand is enough. I grip it hard, scared and shaky, but I feel the warmth and calming sense, as the sound of a bang seems so far away.

* * *

**Bena Madrigal.**

Another the other cannon, I know I've made the final five. Me. The little boy from Five who had no chance at the beginning. Who, against all odds and losing his three allies within an hour of each other, survived and survived, again and again. I barely escaped the two of them. My dead allies.

I walk along the hallway, using my hand to trace the large, deep scar on my arm that stings with every little touch.

Courtesy of Tanna.

I laid there, hurt, trying my hardest to squirm as Tanna's dead body crawled up my body, trying to reach my eyes. Rudy just stood behind, dead eyes watching the scene unfold, his allies fighting and one about to kill the other, just the other way around this time. I could have died. I was so close, I could feel her nail teasing beneath my eye, and I couldn't move. She might have been a girl and two years younger, but Tanna was always a lot more bigger and muscular then me.

I was practically at her _mercy_.

But I got away. The fire came, slipped in, giving me the advantage to launch Tanna to the flames and then run as fast as I could. I don't know if the fire got Rudy or not. What would be the point in that? The Capitol wouldn't allow every tribute to be returned home in urns rather than coffins. That would prove they are too sadistic, and oh no, they're everything but that apparently.

I laugh bitterly as I turn the corner, seeing the doors that seem so varied now. No. No more rooms that always seem to try and kill me themselves.

This whole time, every room has tried to kill me. One room and Tanna almost got me. Another where I was trapped by Rudy and Tanna. Went out one room and then got caught by the girl from One, who fired arrows at me, barely missing.

Every time I've almost died.

I've never had the greatest of luck. I didn't trust people enough, yet I got trapped into an alliance with a girl who didn't deserve to die, a boy whose innocence was too astounding and a girl who couldn't have been more evil. I ended up alone before it even began.

I hear the sound of a rustle, and my heart stops. I was always paranoid. Now, I'm a jittery wreck at the slightest sound of nothing.

The rustle is followed by the sound of footsteps, bouncing ever so lightly against the ground. I whip my head around, trying to find somewhere to go, before my eyes fall on a small cupboard, the door edged open slightly. I can see the thin material of a brown, matted blanket lying inside, a little tucked up against the door.

I tiptoe across the gap, sliding in ever so quietly. I can't fight the fear, the sickness, the feeling of _failure_ and _terror_ that bubbles inside.

I peer outside the door, just as the anthem begins once more, the seal appearing on a wall just in the corner of my view. I don't see the name, but I don't need. The blonde hair and small figure is enough to tell me that Modessa is dead. If I would have died, then at least Modessa had a chance. Now, it's up to me.

I wonder what my father thinks? He stands around, ruling over our district, leaving his only son without any friends because he's a Peacekeeper. I had one friend, and one friend only.

Anton.

He looked terrified when I got reaped. We were never that close at the beginning. Two different personalities that clash, that's what we are. Well, were. We grew closer though, after a lot of time and forced being together. He was the only person I could trust. The only person who took the time to break down my walls, my vulnerabilities and hatred over my father's position, and got to know the _real_ me. The real Bena Madrigal.

The door swings open, taking my breath with it.

Standing tall is the girl from Six, whose eyes are wide and wild, a feral look to her. Her blonde hair is matted, tied together, and it's not hard to miss the fact that her cheek is large, an angry red and looks like it's melting off.

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need too.

The final five... _Everything_ to play for is right now. _Everyone_ just wants to go home.

* * *

**Heavy In Your Arms by Florence + The Machine.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Modessa Lilian, District Five.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**As you'll notice, something is missing. I've decided to abolish the pointing system. Frankly, I feel as if you guys feel like you _have _vote for tributes. I'm sorry if you felt that way. I've much rather just hear your opinions on what happened, what you liked and things like that, rather than you guys stressing out over votes.**

**Since I do decide the order, I'll leave it at that. All points collected will still influence me, though.**

**I would still _greatly_ appreciate reviews, so that I know you are reading. If you don't want to review, then why create a character and not watch them? I'll take all of this into account when deciding on kills, mind you, so if I know you're not reviewing, your tribute might not last long.**

**You're free to do what you want.**

* * *

**I'm starting a new SYOT, though it won't start until Child's Play is finished and Glasshouse is down a little more. Blood Thicker Than Water is a Quarter Quell, an extension of canon, and frankly, something I'm super excited for. :p**

**If you want to apply, go to the story and fill the form out (which is slightly altered) and submit like you did for Glasshouse through PM! :)**

* * *

**Lighty, I loved Modessa to the moon and back! Best tribute I've ever seen and worked with.**


	17. Every Breath You Take

_Every breath you take,_  
_And every move you make._  
_Every bond you break, every step you take,_  
_I'll be watching you._

_Every single day,_  
_And every word you say,_  
_Every game you play, every night you stay,_  
_I'll be watching you._

_Oh can't you see,_  
_You belong to me._  
_How my poor heart aches,_  
_With every step you take._

* * *

**Elle Cludiant.**

I stand there, staring at the boy who must know that his fate is sealed. His wide eyes are not impossible to miss. So full of innocence, sadness and terror. Everyone was _just_ like him before we got in here. Everyone was scared in their own right, even the Careers, no matter how heartless they like to act and show themselves off. The only problem is, right now, that's not something you can overlook.

He stammers over a few words, but I don't give him the chance.

I grip the edge of his collar, tightened around his neck, yanking him up from the ground and launching him across the hallway. His small body thuds heavily, sliding roughly against the flooring. I breathe a little harder, surprised at how much someone so young weighs.

He clambers to his feet, a little dazed.

"I'm sorry," I say calmly, fighting my hardest to push away the shaking in my voice. "I truly am."

I run across the gap as he turns around, but he's surprisingly quick, kicking out one of his legs and catching me in the knee. I drop like a sack of potatoes to my knees, finding his hand come out and hit me across the face. I fall properly to the floor, but manage to flounder around enough to jump back up, just as his small body begins to sprint away.

But no.

No.

I won't allow this to happen. I need to kill him. I need to go home more than ever. Everyone has a sob story, I have my own, but determination is what gets you even further than normal. A sob story doesn't carry you right to the finals and then back home. To get there, to get what you want, you have to make sacrifices. And that so happens to be someone else's life.

I'm a lot quicker, being a lot older and mildly trained.

I tackle at his small body, bringing my full weight on top of him and then taking us both to the floor. He squeals under the pressure, and I definitely hear a sickening crunch, but I don't know what. A part of me feels guilty. I'm going to kill the kid, but I broke something beforehand? That definitely justifies the tight knot that forms in my chest as I jump up from him.

My eyes find one of his hands, well, his wrist, bent in an unusual shape, a bone sticking out finely.

Tears pepper his eyes and slide violently down his cheeks, and I just stand there, staring at him.

I want to be sick.

I want to cry.

I just want this_ over with_.

Yet, I can't be sick. I can't cry. It will never be over as long as four other teenagers are still alive.

Then, realisation hits me like a ton of bricks. My spear, currently buried in Cypress. My knife, currently buried in Corvus. No weapons whatsoever on me, and yet, I chased down a boy like a lion to a deer, planning to kill him. I stare down at his twisting and writhing body, crying in pain, clutching his broken wrist both harshly and tenderly, all rolled into one.

I open my mouth, ready to choke more apologies that I can't tell are sincere or not.

My hand runs mindlessly through my matted locks, dripping with sweat and clumped together. I don't know what to do. I have no idea what to do. Panic seizes my throat, but I know what's about to happen. I hear the grinding noise before I see it, the large set of spears dropping from the ceiling on a rotary cycle, ready to launch. I drop to the floor, just as the first spear flies overhead.

They aren't going to stop until one of is dead. They need one of us dead. Right here, right now, a life needs to be lost.

I crawl across the floor as the spears continue to fly gracefully. The boy from Five doesn't realise I'm almost on top of him until those eyes, large and brown, lock onto mine. I don't say anything, since I still don't know whether my apologies are sincere or just false promises to make my guilt sink down and disappear.

My hands wrap around his throat.

I can feel the pulse of his veins underneath my fingers, tightening just a little, and I can feel his body desperately fighting for air.

He squirms and gasps, kicking and screaming with tears still streaming down his face. They soak my hands and run down to the floor, a steady flow like a river.

His hazel eyes soon begin to turn grey, his eyelids fluttering closed. His legs and arms move slower, tired, aching from fighting against the girl who is killing him. I can still hear the spears shooting, never relenting, so I grip just a little harder, ignoring my own tears that mix with the little boy's on the floor. I can feel his throat giving in, his body giving up, and sickening, I feel his last breath as his throat goes tight.

I pull my hands away whilst my eyes train on the purple bruise that lines his neck.

A cannon rings out in the distance, and straight after, I hear a boom of static that crackles and chips. Claudius' voice is clear, excited, and I just want to _laugh_ at how they seem to be enjoying this. A wild girl taking the life of an innocent boy with nothing but her hands.

"_Well done to the remaining tributes of the 52nd Hunger Games! For your participation, we are holding a feast! Each of you needs something desperately, and each of you will find that something within a backpack marked with your district number by the Cornucopia. Think about it, my dear tributes, and may the odds be ever in your favor!_"

The crackle and voice disappears, just as I fall to the floor, tired and exhausted, ready to just give up.

It takes a while for me to be able to crawl away. Even longer for the metal teeth to scoop up Five's dead body, just an hour or so after the confirmed death of his district partner. I close my eyes and allow the tired tears to spill freely.

I'm just _so_ tired.

* * *

**Surge Dalton.**

I sit there, numb, eyes fixated on the spot where Modessa sat, ate food after I told her to, cried for my help as the poison that I created slowly but surely sucked the life from her. My friend, my Modessa, stripped away by me. It was my fault. I created those poisons, I created that specific one that would slowly shut down the body systems so that they would die quickly but painlessly.

I never even _thought_ about this.

I never thought that, at some point, the poison could have killed Modessa. I encouraged her to eat an apple. I sat there, violently shaking her, begging her to fight against the poison, to fight against it and overcome it and then live. Even for a few more hours. I would just needs a few hours to create an antidote. I could have done that. I'm smart enough, clever enough, just not quick.

My knees come to tuck underneath my chin and I hold myself steady.

She just admitted her eating disorder.

I always knew she had one, it was obvious to everyone around her, but I pressured. I pushed and pushed her to admit it, to tell me, and then I forced her to eat. I made her bite into an apple contaminated with a deadly poison.

A poison that took her life in the snap of her fingers.

I freeze, my breath hitching in my throat.

What if she thought it was on purpose? That I purposely loosened the lid so that it would spill over the food we did have, only to force her to eat and for her to take the poison into her blood stream. Her last dying thoughts could have been that I was always planning to do it. That I was always planning to kill her so easily.

The emotional rollercoaster inside me swings left, right and centre, stirring it all up.

I let out the shaky, held breath that comes out more like a choke, before I slowly push myself up, grabbing the backpack that I've pushed my vials back into.

I need to go to the feast. If I don't, they'll only force me there with flying knives, burning fire and trap doors that slowly drop me lower and lower and lower until I'm faced with the Careers and a bounty of something I desperately need, apparently. I don't even know what I need. I have my vials of poison, blowdarts and gun. My body is fine without any bruises or cuts or anything. The only thing I'm missing is food, and I most definitely ate not long ago.

I feel a pang of guilt at the thought of food, reminding me of the apple and Modessa.

A shaky sigh leaves my lips as I begin my slow walk back to the Cornucopia. My sense of direction has been decent, so I know my way roughly back to the Cornucopia, a table waiting for us. I've seen it in other years. A table, nothing special, holding bags that contain what we need.

I move quietly, like a mouse down the hallway, slipping through door after door until I've found the right one.

My grip on the handle rattles, but I slowly push it open, knowing that three more other tributes are waiting to do the same thing.

I watch closely as the table rises, a small backpack tucked in the middle clearly for me. The bracelet on my wrist shakes against the door, but I slip in silently, pressing my back against the wall as I stare at the pictures that were there, right there, staring at us as we waited our fate. It was all a trick. An obvious, twisted and sickening twist to confuse and stun us.

Sliding my backpack down into my hand, I make a sprint across the gap, quickly scooping up the bag that's signed with my district number.

But as I grip it and spin to run, I hear a door creep open behind. Panic swells in me. I tiptoe slowly back, watching the colours swirl on the wall as I dip into the shadows of the golden horn, dodging boxes and bags until I'm nothing else but a simple extra to the darkness.

The girl from Six staggers across the room, looking particularly feral. Her blonde hair is stuck to her face, wet with sweat, whilst her hands are impossibly red. She whips her head around the scenery before continuing over to the table just metres in front of me.

Her hand tugs the bag off the table, but she doesn't move. I hold my breath as she walks over, maybe to even get a weapon or food. Her fingers curl around a spear not far from me leaning up against the curved, glittering wall. She lingers for a lot longer than she should, and slowly, I push my breath down to nothing more than a whisper. Dark orbs strain to see the shadow amongst shadows, so I take the better option and throw myself out the Cornucopia.

She's startled as I manage to knock her back, the spear clattering to the floor.

Elle.

In a moment of pure madness, I remember her name. Elle. She got a decent score, invaded everyone to get this far. Her interview... She was quiet, slightly bitter, refusing to smile at the crowd. She mentioned her cousin falling and how she won't.

Elle tackles me to the floor, my orange backpack flying out of reach. It was already unzipped, anyway, and a few vials of poison spill out. She delivers a punch to my face, but the next one collides with the cement floor as I manage to avoid it. Her cry is shrill and I take advantage of it, pushing her to the side. I claw for the ground towards my poison.

My poison. It'll save me.

I manage to grab a vial with the edge of my fingers as Elle's hand clamps around my ankle.

But as I get dragged back, I twist the lid off and let it drop to the floor, spinning around rapidly to face Elle. It all happens in slow motion. The liquid, the same I used to sedate zombie Rudy, flies through the air, splattering against Elle's pale face. Being poison and not acid, it shouldn't have had an effect whatsoever.

It _needs_ to be deposited into the blood system or a wound.

I didn't miss the nasty burn on her cheek, an easy place to create an infection and open her body up to vulnerabilities.

As she screams, I watch in horror as her body begins to convulse and jerk. Not a placid poison like the one that killed Modessa. This one was made to be much more aggressive, and sadly, I'm fascinated with Elle's twitching and slowly dying body. I created that and I killed someone.

Now, I'm to blame for _two_ teenagers never returning home.

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

When I hear the cannon, I should feel elated. So great. I should be jumping up and down, on a mega high, knowing that not only will I get to go home, but that I completed my goal. To come in here and experience the Hunger Games. To see why they break people so easily.

But I don't.

The thought of another dead body littering this arena makes me want to be physically sick.

Before, I never understood why so many Victors ended up broken. Why some pushed themselves into alcohol or drugs. Sure, they experienced something terrifying and killed kids, almost lost their own life in some cases, but they were alive. They survived over twenty-three others. Shouldn't they be happy they got to go home in a train, not a coffin?

I understand now. I understand that you can never be happy when you go through something so traumatic. I was stupid, childish, mindless to think I could come in here, take the glory and then not feel one shred of guilt or regret over my actions. Now I wished I never bothered. I shouldn't have got so hyped up over the idea of it all. I let myself get carried away with something that just breaks and destroys everyone so horribly, you can't ever be the same.

My feet echo against the ground as I make my way back to the Cornucopia, blindly.

_I_ made the final three.

A part of me wishes that Andromeda was one of the two latest cannons since the girl from Five died. I can't see myself fighting her, running from her, spearing my sword through her gut or looking into her eyes as she drags a knife across my throat. I'd feel the same if Misty was here with me. How could I kill someone whose been my rock, my friend since the very beginning of it all?

Yet, the other part wants her to be one of the other final two tributes. I _don't_ want her to die. She has so much to live for, a family to look after. Andromeda had a fierce reason for wanting to win the Hunger Games, and in comparison to my shallow reason, it makes her a better person, a more worthy Victor.

I push open the first door, cross the room and then push the next one open.

Down the hallway, I see the large arch, wooden door that lies the final fight. Me and two others.

I grip the sword in my hand tighter, feeling the pressure of the handle against my flesh as I stride down the hallway, readying myself. I stop by the door when I hear a noise, silently pushing it open to see. I see the boy from Three staring at the dead body of a blonde girl... The girl from Six.

So he's a final tribute.

I fight hard to ignore the stab of guilt already bubbling within my stomach from the thought of how easy it will be to kill him. I should let him get a weapon to make it a fair fight. I've always been about honor and being an actual human. Yet, I need, no, want to go home without losing my heart and soul into something so monstrous.

My brain thinks to Misty, someone who wouldn't even fight back against Beauty because of her morals.

I should keep my morals, too. I wanted to see how they broke people, but I won't let the Hunger Games break me.

Silently, I slip in, but the door causes problems as it slams itself shut harshly, before I hear a clunk. I grab it to see what happened, but like at the beginning, the door is locked. Three snaps his head up, shaking and quickly working his way backwards and on his feet.

I hear anther clunk, and my eyes snap towards the Cornucopia, a small figure appearing from the other side.

I notice the dark hair, pale features and small stature before I even fully know it's her.

Andromeda.

In her hand... Four glistening, golden handled daggers, looking large and deadly.

"Nice to see you again," I say emotionless, watching Andromeda nod in return. "I guess this is it."

Poor Three. He staggers back towards a door, bracing himself against it. Andromeda walks calmly towards the golden mouth, searching for a sword. She holds it for a moment before throwing it across the gap towards Three, the metal slamming against the concrete floor.

She shows a brief, sweet smile at me before holding out her knives in a fighting stance.

A fair fight. That's what will happen.

I keep my eyes locked on Andromeda, but from the corner of my eye, I see Three picking up the sword.

I'm snapped out my thoughts, however, when I hear the faint but sloshing sound that reminds me of the water back in Four, when it gently lolls against the sand. Panic, sickness, terror and guilt all rises in me and takes over before I can think, making my head spin...

...Just as holes the size of large boulders sprout from the ground, water squirting like geysers and smothering the floor.

_We_ might want a fair fight, but it looks as if that isn't entertaining enough.

We don't provide the excitement, they're going to drown _us_.

* * *

**Every Breath You Take by The Police.**

**The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Bena Madrigal, District Five.**

**Elle Cludiant, District Six.**

**Sorry to the submitters who lost there tributes. Just the way the Hunger Games are. If you're annoyed, fair enough, but there was a plausible reason why your tribute lost out, and it could be many. Mainly, I either struggled with writing these tributes, or the submitters, or the fact that I didn't see a storyline or future for your tribute.**

**Stick around if you want. Don't if you don't. Again, I'm sorry.**

* * *

**Again, I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**Next chapter will be the final chapter of Child's Play, as well as the posting of the obituary for your tributes on the blog. For some of you, you'll need to message me important details if I don't have them already, such as family, otherwise, I'll make it up.**

_**Who do you want to win? And of course, place 2nd and then 3rd?**_

**I know there is a lot of controversy over my possible choice for final three. To me, these are the tributes that stood out the most, on a realistic level could have made it this far, and in all fairness, have taken the biggest loop of changes and emotions since we began. **

* * *

**Once again, sad to see two of my favourite tributes go. Sure, Elle didn't have a massive history, but that's what she was - a normal teenager, like many of us. Bena baby. I'll cry for you forever and ever! Blu and Cobalt, two amazing tributes!**

* * *

**Still some spots open for Blood Thicker Than Water if you're interested!**


	18. Bleeding Out

_You tell me to hold on,_  
_Oh you tell me to hold on,_  
_But innocence is gone,_  
_And what was right is wrong._

_'Cause I'm bleeding out,_  
_So if the last thing that I do._  
_Is to bring you down?_  
_I'll bleed out for you,_  
_So I bare my skin,_  
_And I count my sins,_  
_And I close my eyes,_  
_And I take it in._  
_And I'm bleeding out,_  
_I'm bleeding out for you (for you)._

* * *

**Surge Dalton.**

The sword rattles in my hand, silver sliding against my flesh. My head whips around, eyes needy to find an escape of some sorts. Never before have I ever felt real terror. You're always on your toes in here, constantly paranoid, but I've never felt truly scared. Each thing that has happened has had some logic behind. Everything has been played for a reason, and in a sense, I'm here for a _reason_.

The paintings at the beginning. The bracelets. The fallen tributes returning to come after us.

All of it was planned by the Gamemakers. We are their toys, and they wanted to push us as far as they could until we broke. Till eventually, after all the trauma and pain and terror, we just fall apart. That's what it has all been for at the end of the day. The Capitol doesn't want a Victor that's wholehearted and great as can be. Sure, they want their perfect Career Victor, but even then, I'm almost sure they must go back at least a little bit tarnished.

No-one, absolutely no-one, can walk away from this _completely_ fine. It's just not possible.

They want someone so broken and torn, they are easily manipulated.

That's what they want, and a lot of us don't fit into it. Me, as an example. I'm scared, terrified, but I'm far from broken and torn, bleeding from the loss. Guilt weighs down on my heavily for both Modessa and Rowen, even Bridge and Aimee, but that guilt isn't dragging me down. It's just sitting there, like a brick in my stomach, slowing me down but never fully stopping me.

The water laps at my boots, washing over the leather.

My eyes snap to Andromeda and then Caspian, two Careers that look like they've been to hell and back.

We could be in hell for all we know.

Caspian stomps his foot forward in a fighting stance, looking at me and Andromeda through his matted, mashed locks that don't look as neat as they did in the Capitol. The room smells a mixture of chlorine and potassium, dabbled with the smell of dry blood and concrete.

Andromeda's wide eyes look at me, before no-one makes a move. We just stand there, looking at each other and listening to the geysers of water rain down on the floor, swamping it. My orange backpack floats idly near me, vials, surprisingly also afloat, poisons still encased. Maybe I could dip the sword into it and attack?

"Come on Andromeda, do something," Caspian taunts in a weak, crackled voice. "I'm not moving until you do."

"No chance." Andromeda replies rather quietly, and then it hits me.

Caspian talking weak. Andromeda replying quietly. Neither of them are the same person that was shot up through the glass tube, prepared and ready. I know nothing about either them besides their scores. I mean, who could forget Andromeda's 12? It's a rare feat, something rarely done nowadays. She was a sure Victor, no doubt, gaining all those sponsors - the daggers, encrusted with gold, prove my theory.

The water laps over my boot, ankle deep.

No-one ever understood me. Back in Three, a district full of brainiacs and technical people, you'd think I would fit. But I didn't. I was an outcast. I spent all my time in my room, creating all these amazing things, spending all my time alone. That's why I've never learned to interact with people as much as I could. That's why Modessa was always quick to point out my biggest flaw; my social skills. A pang of guilt hits my heart at the thought of Modessa. I'm kind of glad she didn't make it this far. I doubt the pressure and the fear of all the water, the cameras trained on us three solely now, would have settled with her well. No, she would have been so self-conscious, she might not have moved.

Suddenly, a piece of concrete flooring flies up into the air, a geyser of water much larger and stronger than the others pushing through.

Quick.

They want us to do _something_.

Andromeda spins around in a flash, a gold dagger sliding along her arm, into her hand and then through the air, sailing towards me.

I manage, barely, to avoid the fatal shot, but I still get hit. It darts straight into my calf, and I fall, splashing into the water, letting it fill my ears. I watch, hissing through gritted teeth, as Andromeda throws another knife towards Caspian. He lightly smacks it away with his sword, proving that just like her, he's trained, he's just as capable, and the knife pings across the room and into the water. Andromeda runs forward as best as she can with the rising water, throwing another knife at him.

I don't miss the guilty, ashamed look in her eyes.

I guess that the two of them were close in the Careers alliance. A surprising cry bubbles from my throat as I curl my fingers around the knife, yanking it out. Water is not good to be in, and so, I lift my leg out, ignoring the pain sheering through my lower body and the numbness travelling down my leg. Water has a habit of pulling more blood out of your body, like liquids mixing, meaning you lose blood a lot quicker.

My leg gives out as I try to climb up onto my feet, just as I hear a scream. I gaze over to them, noticing how blurry my vision. Andromeda without knives, Caspian without a sword, all abandoned in the water as Andromeda struggles to pull her foot free from something.

My eyebrows furrow at the sight. What could be containing her? But I don't get the chance to answer.

I look down at my leg, noticing the bright purple tendril wrapping around my calf. My leg is so numb from the knife, I didn't feel it slivering and wrapping tightly around me, pining me down. Blood continues to seep from the sound, staining the grey, murky water a skin pink. Underneath, I know it's a creature. Many suction cups sit on the tendril, meaning it's either probably an octopus mutt, hidden in the chamber of each hole, waiting and creeping.

Blackness takes over my eyes, and I strain to keep them open as Caspian plucks Andromeda from the animal by chopping straight through the tentacle.

I find the knife bobbing down, and desperately, I reach for it and stab my own tentacle, hearing a guttural hiss as the wounded leg retreats.

I'm still unable to stand, though, and everything in me becomes beyond heavy. Everywhere around me, the grey water in tinted pink. All my blood wasted like that. One would never survive without this much blood. Even if I could stand, it's probably too late and I'd probably be too weak.

The Careers stand there, not far away, and I can feel the burning stares on me.

I'm _hopeless_.

But as Caspian walks over to me, scooping up his sword along the way, a pain hits home and finally, I realise everything.

I was never meant to get this far. I was never suppose to survive.

They want their Victor, a Career... And I'm far from that.

I was simply an extra to their amazing fight. A Career versus a Career, one to beat the ages. I was simply a shadow, an extra, waiting to be taken out so the Capitol audience can have their amazing, blood battle between the best of the best. Tears prick at my blurred eyes, and barely, I see Caspian raise and lower the sword swiftly into my gut. I don't feel any pain though. I see a blinding light, and a soft but bitter voice.

"Are you coming or not, Surge? Seriously, you're suppose to be smart so stop acting so _dumb_."

_Modessa_.

And my cannon finally rings out to the tune of the Capitol audience cheering.

* * *

**Caspian Coburn.**

I don't feel no satisfaction as I pull my sword from Three's stomach, his lifeless body just floating there on the small waves created from the geysers. It's getting higher, I know that much. Before, it was at my boots and then my ankles, now, it's halfway between my ankles and my knees. For Andromeda, it's almost touching her knees.

Those creatures were quick to grab her when she stepped into one's nest.

As I look at Andromeda, whose managed to collect two knives, I can the girl from Six, her body, I mean, floating near the Cornucopia, head banging lightly against the golden skin with each roll. Then, swiftly, purple tentacles shoot up and wrap around her body, pulling her under towards the larger hole near us where the bigger geyser pours. I see a flash of her pale face and blonde hair before she dips down into the blackened hole.

"Just you and me," Andromeda says, causing me to turn around as Three's body too is consumed. "I guess it _could_ have been worse."

"It could have been a _lot_ better," I laugh bitterly over the soft roar of the geysers. "I could have been fighting Hollis or Beauty. At least then I wouldn't mind killing them."

Andromeda's sad smile turns more to a smirk. "Or at least I wouldn't mind killing them. Who says you'd be here at this point if the tables were turned?"

I smile back. "I did. Let's face it, I was the best one out of our little gang."

A short, bright laugh erupts from Andromeda's mouth, and if you ignored the water, death, smell of blood and evil purple octopus, you could really understand where she's coming from and enjoy it. It's like a ray of light in a dark, drowned cupboard.

"Don't get cocky, Casp," Andromeda breaths, and I watch her body raise and lower with it. "You and me. One of us will and the other will die. We both knew this would happen when we came in here. You believed you would win, I believed I would win, but only one can, so at some point, we were going to be in this position... J-Just in our heads, we were fighting different people."

Her grip appears on one knife, but she lets it drop into the water. The other follows.

"You want to fight without weapons?" I frown.

Andromeda sloshes over towards the Cornucopia, skillfully dodging each and every hole, though a few tentacles spring to try and trip her. It doesn't take long for her to find something, and I can't help but crack a smile despite my pain and resistance.

A sword.

"You want to use swords?" I ask.

Andromeda nods. "I remember watching you and Misty in training when you were teaching her to use them. You switched hands from your right to left, to make it more fair and dumb you down a little."

I throw the sword in the air and catch it with my left hand. "Sure did. Sure you can swing it?"

"I got a 12, didn't I?" Andromeda smirks. "You don't know _what_ I'm capable of, Caspian. Just because I prefer throwing knives, doesn't mean I don't know how to use all the others. I'm a fast learner, you know. Thought you would have guessed that from the score better than yours."

I'd be lying if a little bit of terror didn't spike in my core. She got a perfect score, and true, nobody truly knows how Andromeda got it. She never spoke about it, not to Hollis, who I always thought she was close too, not just a simple puppy dog. If she can use a sword, using my left, weaker hand, isn't so wise.

We move closer, ignoring the water that now rises to my knees, skimming Andromeda's thighs. We're close, so close, I could try to hear her heartbeat.

Our swords touch to start the battle, then, we stance.

I swing my sword as hard as possible, despite all the urgency in my body reminding that this is Andromeda, your friend, as well as Misty's little nagging voice reminding me that I'm at least being noble and honorable. Metal rings out over the water as sword upon sword collides.

We continue to joust, staying relatively away from the holes, though one tentacle almost has my ankle, and it's even.

It's even.

Panic sets in.

Swords was always something that I excelled at over _everyone_ else. Yet, Andromeda is just as capable, just as skilled as me, and I've been training with them for years now. Either she is a fast learner like she said, or I was never that great in the first place. The ground beneath us between to rumble, shaking and quaking.

We feel it but here nothing until it cracks, rock exploding up from the water.

A piece of rock smashes into my face, making me see stars as I fall backwards. I barely make out Andromeda's scream, no doubt hit too, as I splash back in the water and allow the blackness to take over.

* * *

**Andromeda Lynx.**

Demetria comes running out of nowhere, her face wet with tears and bulging. She wraps her small arms around my legs, gripping hard and sobbing loudly. I hear the stomps and instantly know what's about to happen. I grab her by the shoulders, swinging her around behind my legs as my uncle clambers into the room drunkenly.

He slurs at me, mouth wide and full of spit, but I don't hear anything.

His hand raises and slams across my cheek, sending burning anger and rage through my body, coursing through my veins.

I fall to the floor, hitting it with a thud as Demetria screams loudly. I blink back tears as I see my uncle, that horrible man, shaking my little sister violently, large, grubby hands wrapped around her pale flesh. She cries and cries as he continues to shake and shake her. His hand raises once more, and I throw myself outwards, knocking Demi out the way and taking yet another large slap to the other side of my face, a burning sting washing over my face in an instant before stomping out to get more alcohol, no doubt.

She crouches down besides me, still crying, and I manage to wipe away her tears and brush her hair.

"Hide under the bed, Demi," I mumble. "_Go_. He won't remember you were here, so hide."

She nods frantically, ducking down and crawling under the small bed both me and her share, day by day. I lay weak as he comes back in the room, hefting me up from the floor, continuing to shake, shouting my face. I feel his spit spray my face, the smell of hard alcohol on his breath hot.

Another slap to the cheek.

Another slap to the other cheek.

I blink back the darkness, just in time to see a closed fist smash into my eye socket. I fall, a crumpled heap, feeling a large foot slam in a swing into my chest. A pained cry escapes my throat, but it's gurgled. He continues to kick me, over and over again, no matter how _hard_ I cry. Through wet and blurred eyes, I can see Demetria, hidden quiet under the bed and crying silent tears. Through the slants in the closet, I can see Sterling's worried and red eyes staring at me.

Another kick to my stomach, only this time, I wake to water filling my eyes.

And not my tears.

A large hand yanks me from underneath the water, and I quickly register Caspian in front of me, a large bruise forming on his forehead, trickles of red blood stemming from his nose. He looks shorter. My heart drops when I realise, even standing up, my hands are submerged in water. It's at Caspian's lower stomach, just above his hips, and for me, just underneath my breasts.

He could be attacking them right now.

They could be crying, needing me, getting hit over and over again because their stupid sister got reckless and idealistic and wanted to save them despite not being emotionally ready herself.

Caspian opens his mouth to say something, but I don't let him.

I _can't_ be nice anymore. That dream, hallucination, whatever it was, it was a major wake-up call. I've held everything back and been merciful, when the Gamemakers have been as cruel and breaking as possible.

My hands attempt to wrap around his throat, but my hands are small and his throat is rather large. We stumble back and forth, until finally, Caspian snags his foot on a hole and tumbles down into the water with a splash, taking me with him, hands tightening closer and closer around his throat. I fight my hardest to ignore shame and guilt in my chest, and let the sense of protectiveness and ferocity take over.

I'm not just playing for my life here. I'm playing for _theirs_, too.

I look at his eyes, submerged under the water, begging for air as bubbles escape his mouth, my hands never letting go. But suddenly, I feel my body going heavy, a sheering pain spreading out across my chest. I look down to see my blood washing out into the water over Caspian's body. His hand, my dagger...

My hands go limp, releasing his throat and Caspian rises with a heavy breath of air, gulping it down. I stagger back, swishing in the water, letting the blood trail away from my stab wound. Caspian raises his hand, showing me my knife and dropping it in the water. He must have collected it at some point, probably when I was completely out cold. It would make sense, sadly. I couldn't _expect_ him to give his life up for me, could I?

He wades through the water to me as my legs give way. He grabs me, holding me in the water. Water laps at my face and body, and I just drift there in his strong, loyal arms.

Arms that were never going to betray me like I did to him. Arms that killed me out of instinct, not desire.

Tears slide from his face, a guilty look in his eyes, a bruise forming on his throat. "I-I-I'm s-s-"

"Shush..." I manage to breath out. "S-S'okay..."

I feel a rough tentacle of one of the creatures wrap around my ankle, followed by my other, then my arms. Finally, one manages to snake around my waist. They don't hold me roughly, but more tenderly, like they know I'm on the edge. They slide me out of Caspian's arms as tears stream his face. I begin to submerge, the water rushing into my nostrils and lungs, burning and scorching them. He'll feel guilty, but he shouldn't be. It's a game we all had to play. He just _played_ it better than the rest of us.

I float downwards, down to the large hole in the center, watching Caspian's blurred face from the waves change and shift repeatedly.

He won.

I hear a crackle of static, before the familiar, haunting sound that's been chasing me around this whole time sounds. A cannon, only this time, it's mine. I didn't save them. I didn't free them. I _failed_ in my quest to be a good sibling; the protector that I was deemed to be.

* * *

_"Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the Victor of the Fifty-Second Hunger Games, Caspian Coburn! I present to you - the tribute of District Four!"_

* * *

**Bleeding Out by Imagine Dragons.**

******The blog for this story is - _childsplayhungergames . blogspot . co . uk/_ - just take out the spaces. Deaths will be notified there.**

**Surge Dalton, District Three.**

**Andromeda Lynx, District Two.**

**On the blog, an obituary has been created under _Remember, Remember_ - all filled with details on each character and what happened after the Games, as well as what happened to Caspian, too.**

* * *

**If you could, a review would make my day, especially if you answer these questions?:**

_-Who you thought would win Child's Play?_

_-Favourite character (besides your own)?_

_-Are you happy with who won?_

_-The most shocking death of the entire story._

_-The most jaw dropping moment of the story._

_-Your favourite chapter?_

_-Your favourite line from a character?_

_-Thoughts on the obituary on some characters/your character?_

* * *

**Compared to _Nowhere To Hide_, everyone seemed undecided on who they wanted to win. Before, Rye was a dead certain, but this time, I had a Team Caspian, Andromeda and a small one for our darling, geeky Surge.**

**Firstly, I should point out one thing - Andromeda is a character-relative of a character I created. If any of you know _BeccaJoy's You Better Run_, Sterling Lynx (District Two Male) is indeed the younger brother that Andromeda refers to, as well as being my character that I created. I created his back story with his older sister, Andromeda, going into the Games a few years back and failing to save the family from their uncle.**

**Sadly, she was always destined to die.**

**Becca was super excited and created the idea herself of me using Andromeda, so give props to her.**

**There might be some controversy on Caspian winning, but in all fairness, I believe he would have. He had the power to back up the talk, a likable, non-sadistic personality and well, just a genuine heart.**

**I loved each and every character I was giving for this story, all the way from Cypress, who died first, to Andromeda, who died last. That includes broken Rowen, insecure Modessa, little Maybelle and Rudy and Aimee and Bena. Beautiful and sadistic Beauty, too. Each one was great and I want to thank you submitters for staying with this story and creating memorable tributes to work with.**

**I hope no-one hates the final fight... I just didn't feel like a massive fight would be what Andromeda and Caspian would do to each other. They care for each other, and I don't seem them willingly having it out.**


End file.
